My Animal (Animo Sidekick Novel)
by themadyjones
Summary: This is the sidekick novel to Animo. Each chapter pairs up with the chapters of Animo. It's the same story, same events, same characters. The only difference: it's Barton's take on the new heroine who has come to fame.
1. Prologue: Trespassing

Prologue: Trespassing

Her face was screwed up in concentration, her blue eyes glittering with the promise of a challenge. The boy, looking worn out but ready for a fight, ran at her. It appeared as though he was trying to find a way around her. And why wouldn't he? He had the ball.

I shook my head at the foolishness of the boy. Did he really think she was going to stand there and let him score? Of course not. That's why she jumped at him, swinging her right foot to connect with the little black and white ball. There was the sound of a collision at the two of them crashed together. The boy was knocked to the ground, but she remained on her feet, quickly running away to pass the ball onto another teammate.

Ah, the joys of soccer.

"She's pretty good at that," Steve Rogers remarked. I saw him watching the screen out of the corner of my eye. His fists rested lightly on his hips. Typical Captain America stance.

"Yeah, I guess so." Tony Stark's highly critical voice met my ears. "She looks pretty good out there. But I could take her."

I shook my head as Thor countered his proclamation. "Don't be so sure of yourself, Stark," his deep voice warned. "She looks rather dangerous. For a mortal, at least."

"Let's not argue about who can beat her at soccer," Bruce Banner intervened, his voice coming from a little to my right. "Barton." I turned my head. "Switch it over to a different clip."

Shrugging my shoulders, I walked over to the large screen and tapped a few keys. Another video of the girl popped up, this time showing her standing on a stage.

This video consisted of many different segments, and switched to what looked like a school cafeteria at one point. There was the girl dressed in a crude knight costume, speaking in a deep throated voice; another showed her dressed in an ugly green dress and equally awful gray wig. An interesting grandmother indeed, hitting people with purses. There were clips of her in all black wearing a goatee, her curls tucked under a ski hat. She played the dumb angle in that one. Another, the most recent one, depicted her as a little girl in pigtails and a dress. Frankly, it was kinda adorable.

"She's an excellent actor," Natasha Romanoff spoke up. I smiled her way; she returned it.

"Those voices are very realistic," I agreed, nodding. "What's her name, again?"

"Kristy Monet, age fifteen." Nick Fury came strolling into the room, bringing his air of "I rule you" and "don't cross me" through the door with him. He stopped at the side of the paused image showing Kristy about to get her hand smacked. "We've watched her long enough that you should remember that, Agent Barton."

I must have blushed, but I didn't care. I apologized to Fury, not really meaning it, and continued to stare at the screen. Why was she getting hit? That was an inquisition to be answered at a different time.

"Have you all seen enough?" Fury continued, glancing around at each of us. At our nods, he said, "Good. Captain, assemble your team. You're leaving tonight." With those words, he turned on his heel and left the way he came.

We exchanged a few looks between us, most of them confusion and shock. Then we all looked to Rogers. "Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Avengers, suit up!"

oOoOo

I slid a dark T-shirt over my head. Rogers had suggested we wear normal clothes, and not our hero getups. Propping my foot up on a chair, I tied the sneakers I rummaged from my closet at home. "Ready," I called out to the hallway, where Natasha was waiting.

I met her a few seconds later, closing the door quietly behind me. Not sure why I did it in that manner; just habit, I suppose. Regardless, we strode off down to the flight deck. The rest of the team was assembled there next to one of the larger jets.

I shook my head slowly at the sight before me. Everyone was wearing average clothes, like Rogers said to, but it was just…_bizarre_…to see everyone. Rogers, Natasha, Banner, and I looked relatively the same. We wore these types of clothes more often, and found them the most comfortable. Stark, however, was used to wearing expensive suits and silk shirts when he wasn't dressed up in his armor. He must have had to go out and buy new clothes, or borrow some from Rogers, because he looked shabbier than usual. He really didn't look like billionaire Tony Stark.

Thor, on the other hand, still looked somewhat like Thor. Even without his cape and armor, you could tell that he was, er, different. He wore jeans and a tightly stretched T-shirt that showed off the muscles that we were all jealous of. It made him look like either a football player, a bodybuilder, or, well, a god. It was probably killing him to have to leave his hammer behind.

In fact, none of us were taking any weapons whatsoever. "We're just getting in and out," Rogers had said. "No fighting." That last bit had been directed at Stark.

Now we were climbing into the jet, arranging ourselves comfortably, and preparing for takeoff. It was time to fetch Kristy Monet.

oOoOo

_Nice to be back in Iowa,_ I thought to myself, looking at the house before me.

"What in the world are you trying to accomplish?" Stark asked. He was addressing Rogers, who was, at that moment, searching through Kristy Monet's mailbox. "Do you really think they'd keep a key in their mailbox? From what we've seen, her family is a _lot_ smarter than that. Wise up, Cap."

I stifled a laugh at Rogers's expression. He'd really thought he was on to something, apparently. "I was looking at their mail to make sure it's the right address, Stark," he said drily, catching everyone off guard. Except for Natasha, that is.

"That's what I figured," she said, glaring at Stark, who ignored her.

Stark wasn't done. "Yes, because every town has a mail person who delivers at night. What was I thinking?"

"Shut up, Stark," I snapped, walking through the yard to the front door. I stuck my hand under the welcome mat, extracting a key. I stuck it in the lock and turned, opening the door. "Let's just get on with this already."

We entered the house, trying not to make any noise. It was a cute house, I'm sure Natasha was thinking. She didn't voice that opinion, but it was there. I could see it on her face. And it _was_ a nice house. It wasn't huge, like Stark's tower, but it wasn't small either. It looked like the kind of house a middle class person would own.

All the furniture was really old looking. As we walked through the house, we slid our feet to make soft shuffling noises on the wooden floors. They weren't shiny, by all means; someone could probably get a splinter on them.

"Where is she? Up the stairs?" Natasha whispered. Rogers nodded and motioned for us to follow him.

One of the stairs creaked. All heads turned to look at Thor. He mumbled something close to an apology and we continued our ascent.

We passed a few closed doors as we walked down the short hallway to her room. Of course, she was at the end of the way. "Kristy's got a brother, right? What if he wakes up?" Banner inquired from the very back of our little line.

"He's an eighteen year old boy. I bet he sleeps like the dead" was Stark's reply.

Upon close inspection of the end of the hallway, we discovered Kristy's room was on the left, and the room where her parents slept was directly across from it. We slid through the crack the half-opened door made.

A fluffy gray cat, disturbed from its rest, leapt off a beanbag chair and ran out of the room, slipping between our ankles.

I raised my eyebrows. Her room, unlike everywhere else, was entirely modern. White carpet and yellow walls were the background for her décor. A mirror hung from one wall, and corkboard donned several pictures of friends and family, movie ticket stubs, bracelets, and hastily scribbled sticky notes. A black dresser stood nearby; her makeup rested on top. I recognized mascara and lip gloss. The rest only Natasha would be able to identify.

Posters of shirtless men and rock bands were plastered to the wall, looking odd with the sunshine yellow paint behind them. A few other posters were for movies, and some were for plays that I assumed she'd been in.

Her closet was walk-in, and every rack was full off bright colored shirts with a few black ones mixed in with the bunch. She clearly didn't have OCD. Natasha pulled open each of the drawers. The first one held pajamas; the second one had stacks of jeans, some normal denim, some neon skinnies. At the last drawer, Natasha made the rest of us turn away. It was easy enough to guess what that contained.

So we turned our attention to the bed. It was sleek black wood, and queen-sized. The sheets were black with white polka dots, and the comforter was white with multicolored flowers. And underneath the sheets and comforter, nestled among the pile of decorative pillows, slept Kristy Monet.

"Aw, how cute," Stark said sarcastically. He was standing nearest to the bed, right next to where Kristy lay. "So, how do we do this?" he asked Rogers, who was standing next to him. "Do we just wait for her to wake up? That could take hours."

"Maybe if we stare at her, she'll wake up sooner," Banner answered in a joking manner.

Stark took him entirely seriously, crossing his arms across his chest. He leaned over the bed, staring at her with his wide brown eyes. "Well come on," he said, not looking up. "I'm not doing this by myself."

Rogers shrugged and looked at Kristy, in a much subtle manner than Stark was performing. Everyone else did the same.

I shook my head. I couldn't watch her from here. I wasn't used to spying from the ground, even if I was on the second floor. Eyeing her bed, I made my decision. Her headboard looked wide enough, so I went for it.

I put both hands on her mattress and climbed up before grabbing one post on her bed. Then I stepped onto her headboard, spacing my feet evenly. Banner drew in a shark breath, waiting for me to wake her up or fall, but I didn't. And now I towered over everyone and could see everything there was to be seen in that small room.

And that's how we stood for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was only about twenty minutes. Banner was standing next to the mirror, leaning against the wall. Thor stood nearest the door, and Natasha was positioned on the opposite side of the bed of Rogers and Stark. They all had their arms crossed.

Stark maintained his hovering stature for a little longer, finally getting fed up. So what did he do? He took it upon himself to wake her up.

First, he threw the covers off her body. Thankfully, she wasn't wearing anything too revealing: blue plaid pajama bottoms and an orange shirt with a soccer logo. Kristy remained asleep. Next, he poked her in the arm. She didn't move. He poked her in the side, a little harder this time. She squirmed a little and mumbled something unidentifiable. He then poked her in the leg, digging in to get her up. And it worked.

We watched as, with an angry screech, Kristy flung herself off the bed and landed a rough kick to Stark's jaw. "God, Adam, why did you have to ruin it?" she screamed at him.

"Ow," Stark exclaimed, rubbing his jaw with one hand. "Hey, I woke her up!"

I shook my head again because I knew if Stark didn't think of something quick, he was bound to get his ass kicked.


	2. Chapter 1: Assignment

Chapter One: Assignment

Kristy limped backwards until she bumped into her bedside table. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" she asked us. Her voice was thick with interrupted sleep, but still had an edge to it. Her lamp flicked on, and I flinched from the sudden brightness. She faced Stark. "Okay, hold up. I know you."

Six people gasped. Kristy wasn't one of them.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. I couldn't see her face, but I could imagine what it looked like: either pure rage or a sly grin that we've witnessed her wearing before. "Where's your suit of armor, Iron Man? My kick wouldn't have hurt quite as bad," she snarled with an impressive amount of sarcasm. And I thought Stark was bad.

"How'd you recognize me without my suit?" Stark asked her, trying to be funny. It had a minimal effect; he was still too shocked looking to get maximum hilarity. Not that he reached that level all that often.

Kristy answered back with some dry response that I couldn't place words to. Stark retaliated with a challenge to name each one of us that stood uninvited in her bedroom.

She recognized Rogers as Captain America first, and who could blame her? The guy was a World War I vet who was frozen in ice for years on end. Until we unthawed him, of course. The guy was practically famous, much to his dismay, I'm sure.

Next she noticed Natasha. She smiled and called her Black Widow. I wasn't surprised. That was an easy enough observation; Natasha was the only woman in the room.

What_ did _surprise me, however, was when she knew who Banner was right away. Most people don't recognize a giant green rage monster in his calm state of mind. To my amusement, she even asked him why he wasn't green. "That's only temporary," Banner replied in his quiet manner as I smiled.

Then I was back to not being surprised when she recognized Thor. Who wouldn't remember the God of Thunder, Thor Odinson? His muscular arms, long blonde hair, and arrogant stance gave him away completely. He'd improved his modesty since living on Earth, but it was still there when you looked at him.

I stood there on her headboard, palms pressed against her yellow walls, and waited for her to point me out next. But she didn't. She didn't look up, didn't even bother to _turn around_. That wounded me; I was, like, the coolest member of the team. And she couldn't even remember that I was supposed to me there too? I glared at the back of her dark, curly head, willing her to notice.

Then, miraculously, she moved her head from side to side. "Where's Hawkeye?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious. It was almost as if she _wanted_ another trespasser in her room. "Shouldn't he be here too?"

"I am," I replied, keeping my tone light.

Kristy turned around to look at me, completely unfazed. She looked me up and down and fixed me with a steely blue gaze. "How are you not breaking my bed? And why are you up there in the first place?" she snapped.

I pulled a face of mock hurt and stepped carefully onto her mattress before returning to the floor. "Are you calling me fat?" I gave her a toothy grin. "That's not nice. I can see better from higher up. Not as much turning of the head."

She tossed her head and sat back down on her bed. I watched her toss a glance at her digital clock, smile, and then close her eyes and lean against her pillows.

"Don't you even think about going back to sleep!" Stark exclaimed in his overly commanding voice. It was my turn to kick him in the jaw, but I held back.

"Who do you think you are, telling me what I can and can't do?" Kristy snarled, curling her lip to reveal perfectly straight, white teeth. I faintly recalled seeing a photo of her with braces from a year or two prior.

Stark held out a hand an introduced himself, frowning when she smacked his hand away. He continued on with his little introduction game. "Captain America here, his name is Steve Rogers." Then he nodded his head in my direction. I raised my eyebrows at him. "The guy you called fat is Clint Barton." This remark was met with a soft laugh from me and an angry hiss from Kristy. "Over there is Natasha Romanoff. Everyone knows who Thor is. And Hulk is Dr. Bruce Banner. You know, the guy who disappeared after a gamma radiation accident?"

I sighed from boredom and exasperation as Banner spoke up with, "Thanks, Stark." Stark, in turn, flashed his classic prize-winning smile that we'd all grown accustomed to seeing.

Kristy yawned and mumbled something about being happy to meet us all. Then she asked, ever so politely, if she could go to sleep now.

I answered her. "No. You need to stay awake, and come with us."

Kristy propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me, tilting her head a little. To me, she resembled a confused puppy, or kitten, or whatever cute animal tickles your fancy. "Excuse me?" she asked, bewildered.

Natasha spoke up from the other side of the bed. "You need to come with us, Kristy."

Kristy visibly flinched, bringing her shoulders up to her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. It was an interesting display of, well, not affection. "Mo," she corrected Natasha, and the rest of us for that matter. "Why?"

I assumed she meant why she had to come with us and not why we'd called her by her real name, and Rogers did too. "You aren't safe here, not at this time," he told her, as close to the truth as he could get in that moment.

"Why?" Kristy, no, _Mo_, asked once more.

It must have snapped a little fuse in Stark's diluted head. "Can't you say anything but 'Why'?" he exclaimed, looking down his nose at her. The unanimous clenching of fists that was passed around the room made me pretty confident that everyone wanted to shut him about in that moment.

I took a slight step forward, glaring at Stark. "You're just upset because a fifteen-year-old girl kicked you," I growled.

"I'm actually sixteen, now." Mo turned her head again and looked once more at her clock. "It's my birthday for another…forty-two minutes."

I bit my lip. I guess it was my turn to make the mistake. We obviously didn't know as much about Mo as we thought we did. It was the stuff Fury had reminded me of, too: her name, and her age.

"Well, then, happy birthday. Now get up and come with us." Rogers was assuming his authoritative stance and voice, trying his best to convince her to go with us. We all knew, however, that she wasn't going to go if she didn't want to. In that case, we'd have to forcibly take her, but I sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that. "Don't think that we're lying to you. If you stay here, there is the ultimate possibility that something very, very bad will happen to you."

I stifled a little laugh at Rogers's threat, even though it was completely true.

The two of them discussed her parents and her brother for a few minutes, a conversation that I tuned out. Then Mo was silent. When I looked at her, I saw her resting her head on her knees, her hair creating a curtain in front of her face, shielding her eyes from our view. "I'll go," she said finally. I heard a quiet yawn.

"Go back to sleep, then. We can leave in the morning," Rogers told her.

Mo nodded slightly and lay back down. She picked up an iPod and switched the song that was playing. Then, with her blankets pulled up under her chin, she drifted back to sleep. "Night, Mo," I said softly, knowing she probably wouldn't hear.

Rogers then began giving out orders. Natasha went to work rummaging up a bag and stuffing clothes from Mo's closet into it. Banner was sent down to the kitchen to make coffee, while Stark and Rogers went to rouse Mo's parents to explain what was happening. They deserved to know, after all. We didn't need anyone panicking, thinking that their child had been kidnapped, or whatever.

And what were Thor and I doing? I was sitting on Mo's bed, keeping watch. Thor stood by the door, assisting me in my duty. We spoke in hushed tones to Natasha every so often. At one point, we had to close our eyes. She was going through that drawer again.

"How long will this take?" Thor asked, directing the question at me.

"Steve said we shouldn't take her on her birthday. So we're waiting to leave until after midnight. Did you miss that part?" I asked, smirking. Thor grinned back.

Later, after Mo's parents had consumed enough coffee to make them alert and aware of the words they were speaking, we were ready to leave. Rogers had Mo's bag slung over one of his shoulders. Thor approached the side of the bed, pulled back Mo's covers, and slid his arms under her thin body, gently lifting her.

One by one, they filed out of her room, Thor being careful to not bump her against the wall. Before I could leave, though, I had to do one thing.

Quickly, before anyone knew that I wasn't behind them, I went back to Mo's bedside table and swiped her iPod, sliding it into my pocket. Then I turned back around and caught up with the rest of them team, saying good-bye to Mo's parents as I went.

oOoOo

"You two stay here," Fury ordered. I glared at his retreating back as he, Thor, Stark, Rogers, and Banner all left. They talked in hushed voices as they went, but I knew they were going to the room where Mo lay sleeping. It was obvious enough.

Natasha nudged me with her shoulder. "Why do you think we have to stay here?"

I turned to her, placing my hands behind my back. I raised myself onto my toes. "Because we're _human_," I said, leaning toward her with a silly smile. "We're not enhanced like the rest of them. We don't have superpowers."

She regarded me grimly. "Do you really think that's true?"

I laughed. "Of course not. If that was the case, we wouldn't even be part of the Avengers, now would we? We aren't completely inferior, no matter what Stark thinks in his delusional mind. And even if we were, we'd show those bastards that we're to be taken seriously." I was lying through my teeth. They didn't want us to know what was happening. They only kept us around because we fought well.

"You're lying, Barton. Don't lie to me." Natasha looked at the ground, angling her body away from me.

"Hey, I was just-" I began, but cut myself short when I saw the lot of them returning, minus Thor. "Where's our blonde god?" I asked, shooting Natasha an apologetic look.

Stark exhaled loudly. "He'll be out shortly," Rogers answered, raising his eyebrows at Stark.

"Hopefully," Stark added, giving a wary glance over his shoulder.

"What do you-" I was silenced again as the screaming began.

The hair on the back of my neck rose and gooseflesh made itself prominent on my bare arms. _Were they having Thor torture her? No, Thor wouldn't do that. Or would he? He used to always be looking for a fight. Who's to say that he stopped?_ All these thoughts ran through my head in a matter of seconds.

Natasha's face held a look of horror. "What are you _doing_ to her?" she gasped, her green eyes wide in shock.

Fury, to my surprise, was looking a bit ruffled. "Nothing!" he insisted, staring down the hallway. He sank into the nearest chair with a sigh of exasperation. "Thor volunteered to wake her up and bring her out here."

"And you didn't have him specify _how_?" I exclaimed. I sat in a chair across from Fury; Natasha followed my lead, taking one next to me.

A line of worry formed on Banner's forehead. Rogers tried to keep his face passive, but concern shined through the cracks. Stark was looking pleased. I wanted to hit him, or shoot him with an arrow. The latter held the most appeal, but my bow was in the training room.

Thor must have been getting closer because Mo's screams were becoming more decipherable. "Put me down!" she yelled. This outcry was followed by a series of growls and shouted nonsense. She wasn't making Thor's job easy.

The door to the conference room opened and Thor stepped in. Mo was thrown across his shoulder. She was flailing her legs at his stomach and twisting violently in his steely grasp. A jerk of her arm revealed that she was pulling his long hair. A faint flash of her face showed uncontrolled rage. A slight trace of fear glittered in her blue eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?" Fury's deep voice stopped Mo's hollering of outrage.

Thor grabbed her around the waist and set her gently on the floor. When she turned to face us, she looked defiant. It reminded me faintly of Stark and his "I can do it all" manner. In her clenched fists were a few strands of blonde hair.

"Thor, are you okay?" Stark asked him from the corner of the room. The expression on his face was amused and smug. He knew something was going to happen to Thor; he was glad it wasn't him.

"I'm fine," Thor replied good-naturedly with a little laugh. He looked down at Mo and smiled, which made me smile in turn.

Mo finally noticed the hair she held in her hands. She murmured something quietly to him, something that neither I nor anyone but Thor could hear. It must have been an apology, because he patted a hand on her shoulder.

Fury stood from the chair he'd been sitting in. "I see you had a successful time getting her, Thor," he said.

"Who are you?" Mo asked, eyeing Fury. If I was in her position, and I was at one point in my life, I'd have been surprised at Fury's eye patch. She seemed to be handling it quite well, however.

Fury answered with his name and title (the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.), and how the agency was what started the Avengers. "We work toward the protection of our country, a responsibility that is, if your worthy, to be partially bestowed upon you. Do you understand?" he finished.

"What happened to your eye?" Mo ignored his question.

"That's not important," Fury answered, waving the inquiry off.

"Of course it is."

"In what way?"

To everyone's amusement, though probably not Fury's, Mo began to explain. "Well, if I don't get a real reason, then I'll be forced to assume that you lost your eye to a battle with Captain Jack in a swordfight over Davy Jones's treasure. So tell me, Nick Fury, are you a pirate?" A grin spread across her face, lighting up her features. I laughed, and the others joined in. Fury was the best part. Oh, if looks could kill…

"Do you understand?" he repeated, glaring at her with all the hatred he could muster. It was enough to make seasoned agents quiver with fear, but Mo held her ground. It was blatantly obvious that she wasn't afraid anymore.

Mo glared right back, with an intensity to match Fury's. "If you mean about you really being a pirate, then aye-aye, Captain. If you mean about being kidnapped from my bed on my birthday and getting to become a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. for God knows what reason, then yes. I understand you perfectly." Then, in a perfect imitation of Nick Fury, she added, "Do _you_ understand?"

Fury stalked toward her until he hid her from my view. "Say that again," he growled. "Hold up both of your hands and say that again."

Mo slowly raised her hands in confusion and repeated her words in the same voice as Fury. Even if she didn't understand why, the rest of us did. Fury was testing to make sure she didn't have a tape recorder of other means of assistance in her seamless mimicry. I shook my head. How would she have managed to smuggle one here?

"That's impressive. Kristy Monet, I believe that I may have discovered your superpower." Fury was clearly satisfied with the results of his little test.

"My name is Mo," she said, for what seemed like the millionth time. One of us really should have updated Fury on her details. "And you've got to be kidding me. Mimicking people isn't a superpower, Black Beard. It's just what I do when I get bored."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, while simultaneously trying to quiet a laugh. Fury and Mo were shooting daggers at each other, Fury's laced with bitterness, Mo's with sarcasm. The rest of us sat on the sidelines, waiting for the outcome.

"Barton, Romanoff," Fury said suddenly, snapping me to attention. I sat up a little in my chair, looking like I'd been paying attention the whole time. "I'm putting the two of you in charge of training Monet, starting now. Go," he ordered. I exchanged a glance with Natasha. We stood.

Mo didn't resist when each of us took her by an arm. She just looked at us. As we walked away, however, she noticed the bag that Rogers had carried in. "Is that mine?" she asked us quietly. I nodded to her.

With a smile, she escaped our grip on her arms and went to grab the black duffel bag. I looked back at Fury. He tilted his head toward me, as if telling me to go. Mo was returning to Natasha and me with a big smile on her face. I resisted a smile as well, in case Fury wouldn't approve.

Off we went down the hallway. Mo was carrying the bag with both hands, leaning a little toward the side that I walked on. "Do you want me to carry that?" I asked her, holding out my hand to take it.

When my fingers brushed hers, something shocked me. I didn't know if it was static, or what, but Mo must have felt it too; her eyes widened and she jerked away from me. "No, I'm fine," she said hurriedly. I bit my lip. The three of us were silent then until we reached the room Thor had taken her from.

"We'll wait here. Go change, do what you need to do." Natasha ushered Mo into the room. The young girl shut the door behind her.

I blew out a puff of air. "Well, this is going to be fun," I remarked, resting my back against the cool steel wall. I closed my eyes. I could feel a headache coming on and wondered if Natasha was getting one as well. I half opened one eye and peeked at her.

Natasha had her arms crossed. She was giving the door one of those death glares that I'd seen her use on her enemies and Stark before. It was sort of terrifying to look at. "What's the matter?" I asked. She didn't answer. "Nat."

"I don't like this," she finally said.

"Don't like what?"

That was when the door opened. Mo walked out, wearing athletic shorts and a blue T-shirt. Her feet were bare. Natasha must have forgotten to pack her shoes.

"You clean up quick," I commented. Mo gave me a weird look. "What? Natasha takes forever."

Natasha, right on cure, hit me. Mo laughed. I felt a little better, in a way, because if Natasha still had it in her to hit me for a little comment, then she wasn't in any immediate danger of becoming someone I didn't know.

Mo walked in between us as we resumed our journey to the training room. The silence also set back in, but I shot a glance Natasha's way and caught her eye. I gave her a look that told her we'd be discussing this later.


	3. Chapter 2: Arrows

Chapter Two: Arrows

I shifted my weight to my other foot. The training room really needed to invest in some chairs. "Come on, Mo, you can kick harder than that!" I cried, exasperated. I mean, really: was she even trying?

Mo and Natasha were sparring in front of me. I didn't need to worry about getting hit, however, because Natasha was on offense and Mo couldn't touch her. It was starting to occur to me that maybe Fury was wrong; maybe Mo wasn't really Avenger material.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this. Why had Fury suddenly demanded that we keep track of this girl, fifteen at the time? I can't have been the only one to find it creepy that we were watching videos and live moments from her life. What was really going on? And why wouldn't Fury tell us anything? Unless…

Unless he'd already told Stark and Rogers. And if they were in on it, surely Banner and Thor were, too. But why not Natasha and I? Why were they keeping it from us, if there was anything there at all?

Mo's iPod weighed heavily in my pocket. She couldn't have her phone or any other electronic device. That was what Fury had said, at least. Anything along those lines would provide her with access to her life back in Iowa, and that wasn't allowed. Someone may try to come out and retrieve her. That's what Fury was worried about. I, on the other hand, was not, and that was why I had her iPod on my person.

I turned my attention back to the fight. "Mo. Seriously. I thought you took martial arts." I ran my fingers through my short hair. My head was still pounding.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Mo shot back. "Not if we're on the same team."

I rolled my eyes. As if Mo could really do any serious damage to Natasha. She couldn't; not if she kept attacking like that.

Natasha said something to Mo that had an immediate effect. She stood up, straightening out her spine, and balled her hands into fists. There was a dangerous glimmer in her eyes as she watched Natasha jump around. Natasha herself was dancing on the balls of her feet, making circles around the still form of Mo.

Then, to my surprise, Mo attacked. It only lasted as long as one blink on my part, but it was enough. Natasha gasped and fell back onto the floor. She threw a hand to her nose, which was bleeding.

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

Walking up behind Mo, I put my hand on her shoulder. I was still laughing, but managed to get out, "I think I love you?" I grinned.

Mo turned to me. Her gaze was murderous. "Do you now?" she hissed. Her words sobered me; my smile faded and I dropped my gaze to the floor. I shrugged my shoulders.

My little comment, or question, I suppose, because that's how I made it sound, didn't make her very happy. In fact, it appeared as though it made her angry. _Ouch,_ I thought, my pride wounded.

That was the same time that Natasha said "Ouch."

Mo apologized to her and offered a hand. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. "Should we do something about your nose?" Mo asked, a tiny bit of humor lacing in with her words.

"Yeah, I'll go find Banner and have him take a look at it." I heard the door open and shut, and suddenly I was alone with Mo.

"I thought Banner was a science doctor or something like that. Does he fix people, too?"

I looked up. Was she addressing me? Of course, I was the only one in the room with her. I looked at her and saw that she was no longer looking like she'd kill me. This gave me confidence. "Yeah, he's a science guy. But I'm pretty sure he can fix a bloody nose." It was the truth, yes, but partial truth. Banner probably _could_ fix her nose, but he was mostly in the field of science. Natasha was most likely going to go to the infirmary to have her nose checked out. Why had she said she was going to ask Banner? It was another subject to be breached when we were alone.

I smiled at Mo, feeling like I was neglecting her while I dwelled on my own thoughts. Her eyes widened for a split second, and then she went back to normal, her face void of any overpowering emotions. Did I have something in my teeth?

"So, what's next?" she asked, holding her hands behind her back. She looked like she was trying to control something inside her. Humor? I definitely had to have had something in my teeth.

"Well, that was offense. Now let's try defense?" I asked her, looking for approval.

She gave it. "Yeah, whatever. Let's do it."

oOoOo

I watched Mo tug at her Kevlar vest from one end of the room. I clutched my bow in one hand. Chuckling quietly to myself, I lifted my quiver and slung it over my shoulder. I was only going to use my normal arrows; no trick arrows for her to mess with today.

"What, exactly, are we doing?" she asked, having to raise her voice. Even then, it was a struggle to hear her. The training room was pretty big, after all.

"I'm going to shoot you with arrows. And you, Mo, are either going to dodge them or catch them. Get it?" I called back. From a distance, I could barely make out her shocked face. It made me smile.

"I get it. Just…don't kill me, okay?" That was her request? Please.

I laughed. "Oh, Mo. Do you understand trust?"

"Yes, I understand trust."

"Then trust me. You'll be fine." I placed an arrow in the bow and pulled it back, grinning as I did so. Just before I released it, I added, "You won't suffer too many injuries."

Her face was priceless, especially after the arrow got lodged in the vest. I laughed shakily, slightly concerned about the fact that I'd just _shot her_. Why hadn't she moved? My mind raced for something to say, an apology maybe, or some stern words.

She reached for the arrow. "Don't touch it," I told her. "I don't want you to break it."

With one hand on her shoulder and the other on the arrow's shaft, I wrenched it out of the body armor. Mo gave me an "are you kidding me" look. Then she shoved me. "I want to try again. Get back over there."

Shaking my head, I went back to my original spot and docked another arrow. I raised it and the bow to eye level. "Pay attention this time. I know the arrow is cool, but watching it can get you killed," I warned.

When I loosed the arrow, Mo stepped to the left and let it bury itself in the wall behind her. "Very good! Here comes the next one." I let another arrow fly.

Mo was jumping and ducking, easily avoiding getting hit by another arrow. I was impressed, and a little proud. Why, I had no idea. It's not like I was her father or anything. Nor had I taught her anything that would make her better at not being struck with my arrows. All I'd done was shoot her with the first one.

"You can catch them too, you know. Try that," I told her, assuming she was probably getting bored with how well she was doing.

She was laughing, her whole face lighting up with the force of it. Her wild, dark curls bounced about her shoulders. For a moment, my mind played a trick on my eyes. Mo grew taller by a few inches. Her hair gradually changed color, becoming a deep shade of red. Her eyes turned green, instead of their natural light blue. Her nose held a smudge of red just underneath it.

I shook my head fiercely, trying to rid myself of Natasha's image. Why was I so worried about her? She was a grown woman. Maybe I was just worried about Mo, and my mind conjured up Natasha as a way to relieve my fear. Whatever the case, it was stressing me out.

Mo's face still resembled Natasha's. Without thinking, I shot an arrow toward that laughing face. I wanted that face to stop looking like my friend. I wanted it to go back to the young girl I was training. Still, that laughter…

Natasha used to laugh like that. The first time I'd ever heard it was in Budapest, and that was in the midst of a life-threatening situation. I was threatening Mo's life now. It was a situation, and a serious one.

I watched the arrow in horror, wondering what on Earth had come over me. There was nothing I could do to stop it, not now. It was already out of my hands. Before I could yell to Mo, try to warn her, she'd already caught it.

"I caught it!" she sang, waving it above her head.

"Nice work," I said, trying to sound like I'd had everything under control. In truth, I was shaking inside. I walked over to her, trying to come up with something to tell her. I couldn't think of anything, so I blurted out, "Hand me the arrow so I can get rid of it."

Her face contorted into confusion. "Why?" she asked, tilting her head.

_Roll with it, Clint._ "Because you've touched it. It won't fly as right now."

This struck a nerve with Mo. Her eyes, blue once more, became angry. She snarled at me, "Hey, _you_ were the one who told me to catch it! And it's not like I bent it or anything!"

I held my hands up. "I'm not blaming you for anything! It's just the oils on your hands, or something. I don't know. It won't work, that's all." Oils? What? Okay, well, that would work. Until she figured out it was false.

"Can I keep it?"

I looked at her. It was my turn to be confused. "Uh, sure," I said, my eyebrows coming together. "Whatever floats your boat, Mo."

Mo smiled at me. It was a sweet smile, kinder than the ones Natasha gave out. Who was this girl who reminded me so much of Natasha? She was certainly more bipolar than the redhead. That was for sure.

I raised my eyebrows and tried not to watch as Mo slid the arrow into the waist of her shorts. It was such an odd spectacle, but I looked away when she looked up.

The door opened, hitting the wall with a bang. In strode Natasha. She sported a strip of white tape across her nose. So she _had_ gone to the infirmary, not Banner. Why did she lie?

I had too many questions and not enough answers.

"Hey, Mo," she said. "Come with me. Fury's got something to show you."

This clearly set Mo on edge. Her gaze hardened with suspicion. Natasha just waved her hand, beckoning to the two of us.

I pushed Mo, ever so gently. With a backwards glance at me, she started forward. We went out the door and down the hallway, never speaking a word.

oOoOo

In a room that was typically never used, we met up with Fury and the rest of the team. A few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were added to the mix. The room was completely dark, save one little light bulb that was directly over our heads.

The first thing Fury said, without even a hello, was "Meow for me."

I was hoping that was directed at Mo. I wasn't meowing for _anyone_.

Mo let out a tiny mew, like one of the kittens that Thor found a month or two ago. It made me smile, it was so cute. It didn't satisfy Fury, however. He requested that she sound more ferocious.

Mo's temper must have been getting the better of her. She growled deep in her throat. Then she roared, sounding loud and angry. It ended with an agitated hiss. I honestly thought I was at the zoo, watching the lion pen. She was in no way a lioness; she was the boss.

Fury was nodding. "Impressive," he said. "I believe we did a good job deciding on your name and disguise then."

If I was confused, Mo certainly had to have been. When did this happen? And who was this "we" they were speaking of? I wasn't part of it. Mo looked like she was going to ask those same questions, but then all the lights came on.

A metallic mannequin hovered above the table in the center of the room. On it, believe it or not, were clothes. Black clothes, to be exact. Tight pants, tight jacket, tight tank top underneath. Everything was tight. Boots stood underneath, shiny and new looking. And familiar looking.

"Hey! Those are my boots!" Mo exclaimed. Ah, that's where I knew them. They were in her closet. Natasha must have nabbed them.

Fury, after confirming that yes, Mo, those are indeed your boots, told her to go try everything on. He motioned to a door on our left. It slid open.

A female agent, one whom I think I've spoken to before, took the clothes off the mannequin and handed them to Mo. Without another word, Mo went through the open door. It slid shut behind her.

"Who is this 'we', Fury?" I asked, deciding to voice at least a few of my questions.

"Everybody but you," he replied.

I looked to Natasha. "You were in on it?"

She shrugged. "They were discussing it when I went to go get my nose checked out."

"Did you go to the infirmary?"

"Yes," she answered, looking somewhat confused. "Of course."

"You told me and Mo you were going to see if Banner could fix it."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at me. It surprised me, actually. Why was she angry? "You caught that, did you?"

I shook my head. "No, Mo did. She just asked me about it." I paused. "She picks up on the little things, I noticed."

Natasha just stared at me.

"Why did you mention Banner," I said, stating it rather than asking it.

Everyone was looking at the two of us. We were the entertainment, now that Mo was in the other room getting dressed. I was a little hurt. They were all keeping things from me. Was I not trustworthy enough? I thought I was. And what did they know, anyway? I concealed more than I shared.

Finally, Natasha answered. "I wanted to see what they were all up to. It was supposed to be you that caught my slipup, not Mo. Come on, Barton."

Her words stung. I turned away in time to see Mo leave the little side room. She rested her hands on her hips. "Well?" she asked in Fury's voice.

"What do we all think?" Fury was addressing the rest of us now. He crossed his arms. Mo, behind him, assumed the same position. I laughed, and so did everyone but Fury. Instead, Fury shot an angry glance over his shoulder at Mo, who only smiled.

"I like it," Stark said, speaking up for the first time. I was surprised it'd taken him that long. Everyone looked at him, astonished. He smirked. "It really accentuates all her…assets."

Rogers elbowed him before I could.

"I see no problem with it," Thor said.

Well, we all agreed with him. What else were we supposed to say with Fury present? There really wasn't anything wrong with it. She looked good in it. Everything seemed to fit well, tight in all the right places… I shook myself. I was thinking like Stark.

Mo was pushing hair out of her face. "Is there a mirror or something for me to look in?"

A mirror was held in front of Mo by some male agent. He looked somewhat familiar too. I'd probably seen all these agents at some time or another.

I watched Mo as she spun in a circle in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. Her eyes darted up once, and it appeared as though she was looking at Natasha. She most likely was. A tiny frown was forming on her lips.

Without any kind of warning, she shoved the mirror away; the agent was lucky he caught it before it fell. Then she stalked up to Fury and got in his face, or as much in his face as she could, with her height. "What am I supposed to be? Black Widow's doppelgänger?" she snarled, her eyes glinting murderously behind thick black lashes.

We all seemed to look at her more closely that time. She _did_ look a lot like Natasha when she was in her Black Widow outfit, albeit shorter and younger.

"Do you even know what this ensemble does?" Fury asked, ignoring our realizations. When Mo didn't answer, he demanded gloves. I wasn't even going to ponder what in the world he was going to do with gloves until I'd seen what they looked like.

Gloves were fetched, thin and black and looking like they were made of the same material as Mo's outfit. Fury handed them to her and she slid them on. Then Fury took one of her hands and pressed it onto the table. "Pull it back," he ordered.

Mo pulled back on her hand, but it wouldn't move. Her eyes widened. She tried again; still no luck.

Someone nearby cleared their throat. Banner stood beside me, motioning to her. She mimicked his movements, and her glove became unstuck. "It's like a tree frog," she said, grinning.

Next, Fury grabbed two little straps that hung from Mo's jacket and connected them to her pants. I'd barely managed to think _He's getting a little close_ before he stepped back and told her to grab the loops.

Mo obeyed and pulled up on the loops. Black fabric that resembled a bat's wings unfolded from her sides. She laughed and exclaimed, "They're like wings!" Her glee was intoxicating to watch. It made me grin right along with her. "I'm like a flying squirrel or something! Or, like a bird!"

Once again, all eyes were turned in my direction. "Let's go with the squirrel part," I said with a small smile. "I've got the bird part all covered." I was Hawkeye, after all.

For some reason, she found this funny. Her wings encased her like a cocoon as she pressed her hands to her face. Her shoulders shook with her giggles. Then she stopped and moved her hands. "What the?" she said quietly to herself, but not quiet enough that I couldn't hear. She let go of the loops, letting her wings rearrange themselves at her sides. When she lifted her head, a thin line of blood ran from her left eyebrow to her chin. It alarmed me slightly. Little claws peeked out of her fingertips. She mumbled something else that was actually indecipherable.

"Do you still think you're a doppelgänger?" Fury asked, not concerned that she was bleeding.

"No," she said softly. "But if I'm not a little Black Widow, then who am I?"

"From here on out, you're the new superheroine known as Animo. Satisfied?"

Mo nodded in confirmation to his words.

Animo? I liked the sound of it. It was like mashing "animal" and "Mo", which I supposed was Fury's line of thinking. Or someone else's; I didn't know who decided on it.

Which reminded me: I still needed to discuss several matters with Natasha.

I looked at her, but she shook her head at me and motioned in Mo's direction.

Mo was standing in front of the mirror again, smiling at her reflection. She was obviously pleased with what stood before her.

A new feeling was created in the room: wonder. There was a new heroine in our midst, and now we were all excited to see what would become of her. It was an unforeseeable future, the destiny of this teenager. But it didn't matter yet.

Animo was born.


	4. Chapter 3: No Going Back

Chapter Three: No Going Back

"What's going on here?" I demanded for what must have been the thousandth time. Fury, Natasha, and I were standing in the conference room with our arms crossed, glaring at each other. "What are you not telling us?"

Fury ignored me. "How is the girl's training coming along?"

I glanced at Natasha. She nodded, but wouldn't meet my eyes. Feeling a little hurt, I answered, "I think she's ready, Fury."

There was a noise from out in the hallway. All three of us tensed and looked in that direction. We'd left one of the doors open, mostly for this reason. Nobody could sneak up on us that way. On the other hand, anyone who got close enough could overhear our conversation.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Fury asked, deciding that we were in no immediate danger.

"Positive," Natasha replied, speaking up for the first time. Her mouth was pressed into a line, but she met Fury's eye with a steely gaze.

To my surprise, Fury only shrugged his black clad shoulders. "All right then. Consider Animo an official Avenger. Excellent work, agents." Then he turned on his heel and started to walk away, opposite the open door that we'd heard the noise through.

I reached out and caught his arm. "Fury." I growled. "What's going on? Why is she here?" I wanted answers. I was tired of being left in the dark. And judging by the way Natasha came to stand supportively by my shoulder, she was sick of it too.

"We can't discuss this now. I believe our conversation is being listened to by uninvited ears." Fury's response was very blasé, as if he couldn't care less that there really was someone out in the hallway. I looked back to the door, but couldn't see anyone. Was the room bugged?

Then I saw a pair of blue eyes peering at me from around the corner. The only problem with that was the person they belonged to; they were at least seven feet in the air. "Sorry," they mumbled with a little grin, and I recognize Mo's voice. She'd climbed the wall, and was now climbing back down to join us. I returned to glaring at Fury, rage in my eyes.

"Never mind," Fury replied to her apology. "Congratulations, Mo, you're now an official member of the Avengers team."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Natasha smile at Mo. Before I could offer any praise, however, I had to know. "Fury," I hissed, rage tumbling out of my mouth, twisting my words into a tone of voice I hadn't used in a long, long time.

"This is a matter to be discussed at another time," Fury snarled at me, quieting my words before they'd even begun to make themselves known. As parting words, he said to Mo, "Mo, make sure you're in gear at all times. You never know when something will come up that requires Avenger attention." And then he left, leaving behind a confused Mo, a miffed Natasha, and a deeply frustrated me.

Natasha smiled once more at Mo, threw me a suspicious look, then left after Fury, leaving me alone with the young girl. Briefly I wondered what she was going to say to him, if she was going to talk to him at all, but then Mo spoke.

"Well," she said, as if trying not to show too much emotion. "I guess I should go, you know, gear up, or whatever." Then she was leaving too.

I cleared my throat, remembering her iPod in my pocket. "Mo."

She rounded on me, her eyes hardened with irritation. That was plain enough to see, but why? What had I done? "What?" she spit, glaring at me.

I walked toward her and reached into my pocket for her iPod. Her mouth opened in protest, but I was already pressing the cool, metal device into her hand. The look on her face when I backed away was better than it had been. Before, she looked like she would hurt me; now, she appeared as if she was going to cry. "But, how did you…?" She didn't finish her sentence, just stared at me with happy, forgiving eyes.

"I swiped it the night we went to your house. You seemed to like it a lot, so I didn't want to leave it behind." I gave her a smile, and, before she could say anything else, turned and left in the direction Natasha and Fury had gone, leaving Mo behind.

I still wanted those answers.

oOoOo

My cell phone rang at nine forty-three on Thanksgiving Day.

I woke with a start, sitting up in bed. I typically didn't get up until noon, just in time for lunch. Everyone knew that, and most of them did the same. Who could possibly be bothering me now?

"What?" I said gruffly, holding the phone to my ear.

"We've got a problem."

I threw the covers off my body and swung my feet to the floor. Soft carpet met them gratefully. "What is it?" I asked Fury, standing.

"We're being attacked."

I pulled my Hawkeye outfit out of my closet. "Where? The helicarrier?"

"The city. Can't you hear it?"

Crossing the room in a few strides, I pushed the curtains aside and looked out of the window. Everything looked normal. "No. It hasn't reached my area yet." I tossed the black and purple clothes over my shoulder and left my bedroom, making my way to the bathroom. "Is it Loki?" I inquired, wondering if Thor's "brother" had managed to escape the Asgard prisons.

I smiled grimly to myself. If he _had_, then I'd finally get to show him he shouldn't have messed with Clint Barton.

"No, it's not Loki," Fury's deep voice answered. "I'm not sure what it is, but it's bad. Meet up with the rest of the team and find a building. That's an order."

"But, Fury!" I said quickly before he hung up. "What about Mo?"

"She is to remain here on the helicarrier for the time being. She is not allowed to fight just yet. Now go."

The call ended, and I was left staring at myself in the mirror, wondering just what in the _hell_ was going on. If not Loki, then who? Was it the Chitauri again, this time without any master to control them? That'd be bad. Or what if it was a new kind of alien, one we'd never encountered before? I couldn't decide which was worse.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My short brown hair was matted on one side, the side I usually slept on. I ran shaky fingers through it, trying to mess it back up into its typical style. Dark circles hung heavy underneath my blue eyes.

_Mo has blue eyes,_ I thought stupidly, my mind still in the process of waking up. _Poor Mo has to stay behind._

I shook away every thought that didn't concern what I had to do now, and that was put on my Hawkeye gear. The black and purple top ended at the edges of my shoulders. The pants, just black, were snug, not tight like Mo's.

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. _Stop thinking about Mo! You've got work to do!_ I was thinking these thoughts as I walked out into the living room. Lifting my head, I glanced around me. Greenish-blue walls, dark hardwood flooring, black leather sofa, glass coffee table decorated with books I've never read, and a couple of windows with drawn black curtains…everything seemed just as normal as usual. If Fury hadn't called, I would still have been in bed, thinking it was just any other day in the city, or not thinking at all.

I pushed the couch with my shoulder, grimacing against the awful sound it made when the legs rubbed against the wood. I pried up one of the floorboards and pulled out my bow and quiver. It was a rather unfortunate hiding place, but I only used it when I wasn't due to be in at S.H.I.E.L.D. for a few days. At least it was safe from any robbers. This was one of those occasions that it was the wrong place to put it. I was wasting time.

At my front door, I slid into black boots and ran out the door.

oOoOo

"Glad you could make it, Clint," Natasha said drily when I found her, Rogers, and Banner waiting for me at Central Park.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know I sleep in." She ignored me.

All around us, remains of what was the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade littered the streets. Floats and giant deflated balloons rested in heaps, slumped against buildings or overturned cars.

There was a weird humming noise sounding from somewhere nearby. I turned my head from side to side, but I didn't notice anything suspicious. Looking up, I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, either.

That's when an alien popped up from behind us.

Banner gave a warning cry before he curled his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut against the transformation. The shirt he wore fell away from him in shreds. The purple pants he often wore stretched against his muscular green legs. Banner now towered over the three of us as Hulk.

He roared angrily and plucked the alien from the ground before any of us could do anything. The aliens face twisted into horror at Hulk gripped it by the top of its blonde head and pulled. Yellow eyes flashed as it screamed in fury. Then the head came off, leaving the fully armored body without any commanding force.

The sight of it was a little unnerving; these creatures looked so similar to humans. The only differences I could see were the yellow cat eyes and the extra limbs that I saw other aliens growing nearby.

We ran. I was ordered by Rogers to save my arrows until I was alone. Hulk covered for all of us, smashing his fists into each monster's body that came anywhere close to us.

"Where's Stark?" I called to Rogers, thinking about that annoying humming noise.

"He'll be along soon. He's at the helicarrier, working on some science thing for Fury. I don't know what it is, you'll have to ask him or Banner, whenever he calms down," Rogers replied, looking very leader-like in his Captain America getup.

We stopped in front of a tall building. More aliens were running at us, some with armor and helmets, some with normal shirts and trousers, some with a mix of the four. Most of them had at least four arms.

Thor came crashing down next to us, holding his hammer, Mjolnir, above his head. "Where is the man of iron?" he asked, taking a swing at the nearest quad-armed creature. It seemed like the question of the day.

As Rogers explained, I looked to Hulk and pointed upwards. "I need to get up there."

He grunted in response and grabbed me around the waist. Thankfully, he wasn't being too rough. I wasn't in the mood for a hip replacement. "Good luck, guys!" I called down to Thor, Cap, and Natasha as Hulk jumped into the air.

It was over in seconds. Hulk set me down on the building's roof before turning back around and leaping back into the fray. I pulled a trick arrow out of my quiver and docked it, drawing the string back by my ear. There I stood for a whole thirty seconds before a black haired alien launched itself at me. Several more followed.

I released the arrow and watched it dig into the first one's throat. Its friends moved around it indifferently. Pressing a button on the bow, I let that arrow explode, sending bits of tanned alien down to the streets below.

Something whizzed by my ear as I loosed another arrow into a new attacking group. I tossed a glance behind me as that one exploded too. Stark was twisting around in the air to look at me, staying airborne by the jets in his Iron Man suit. His hands and feet shot little crackling bits of fire, like a miniature NASA spaceship. "All right up here, Legolas?" he asked, his voice robotically altered through his face guard.

I merely smiled against his pet name and let another arrow loose without looking. There was a screech as another alien fell over the edge. "Just fine, Stark. Better go find yourself some monsters before Thor and Hulk take them all."

He nodded slightly to me before zooming away. Aliens on strange flying scooters followed him. But I couldn't worry about that now; I had my own assailants to kill.

It was a repeated process; grab an arrow, let it loose. Some exploded, some caught fire, and some just buried themselves into the throats of their victims. I didn't even realize what was happening until my fingers met empty air in my quiver. I'd run out of arrows.

"Well, that's not good," I muttered to myself as an alien came running at me, brandishing its long silver claws that glinted in the sunlight. I raised my bow in defense and wondered how the others were doing. I couldn't bring myself to check over the edge of the building to see.

_Clang!_ Claws crashed against the metal of my bow, a force that sent me staggering backward. Another hit brought me to my knees. _Damn_ these things were strong! This was not going to be good. I struggled and regained my feet.

_Hit. Hit. Hit. _My muscles were screaming with the effort of keeping the alien away.

My luck didn't last as long as I'd hoped. A cry of pain escaped my lips as the alien, with its grinning, malicious face, got its claws past my bow and dug deep into my right side.

Blood immediately welled up and spilled over, creating a dark red puddle on the cement at my feet. The monster smiled at me with happy eyes and advanced on me once more.

I was starting to feel dizzy from blood loss. I swayed a bit, clutching my weapon, before falling back to the ground. More hits came my way, but I was quick enough to put the bow up before I had my heart ripped out.

There was a loud bang from further down the building. I didn't stop to think about what it was; I was too busy trying to stay alive.

"Hey!" someone shouted from behind the alien. It turned, growling, to face the newcomer. I couldn't see who it was from where I sat, but they must not have been too dangerous because it turned right back around again. It honestly caught me off guard as it grazed its claws against my left arm, leaking even more of my blood onto the pavement. I gasped with the pain.

"No!" the person screeched before jumping on the monster's back.

I recognized Mo then, but it took me a moment to register that she was really there. She was _supposed_ to be back at the helicarrier, being good and helping Fury if he needed it. I shook my head. Who was I kidding? This was Mo, and she would do whatever she wanted to. In that moment, it was attacking my attacker.

I moved backward, using the heels of my hands and feet. "Are you crazy?" I yelled at her, and then grimaced. It hurt to move, hurt to speak at all.

Mo let go of the alien and dropped to her feet. "Shut up!" she countered, throwing the order my way.

The alien whipped around and slashed at her. She ducked, and the humanlike thing gave a screech of rage. I didn't know what she did, but it must have hurt it terribly. Then it was facing me again, sauntering back over to finish me.

Mo, her dark curls blowing into her face from the wind, cut around it and stood with her back to me; her feet were placed an inch in front of my own. Her knife was clutched in her hand, ready to harm, and looking like it already had. Bright orange…something…dripped off of it and made little drops by her boots. She looked at me over her shoulder. "Don't move," she commanded, fixing me with a steely blue gaze.

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded against the pain, choosing to lie back against the cool cement. All of my senses were becoming numb. Was I still bleeding? I couldn't feel it if I was.

I heard the alien gasp like it was being strangled. Maybe it was; who knew what Mo was going to do when she was this…was angry the right word? There was a thud, and I assumed that it'd fallen down. Then came a horrible screaming. It wasn't Mo, though. It didn't sound human. Oh, God, what was she _doing_ to it?

I opened my eyes and watched in horror as Mo pulled her little knife out of the monster's eye socket, only to jam it right back in to the other. The alien itself was making horrible noises and writhing in her clutches, trying to land a blow. But it was blind now, and couldn't find her.

Mo began to push the thing with her hands after reclaiming her blade. When that didn't appear to work, she started to kick it until it was teetering at the edge of the building. Then she shoved it.

The alien tumbled over and fell to the ground, but not before slicing into the skin on Mo's left arm. She gasped, but that was about it. She turned around.

It frightened me a little, her appearance. Her curls were blowing in the wind; her face was hardened with rage. A bloody knife dangled from her fingers. It only lasted for a few seconds, and then all of her features softened. She ran over and knelt beside me.

"It's okay," she said hurriedly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're going to be okay."

I still wasn't able to feel much of anything, but I sensed the presence of that hand. It made everything seem a bit more real, knowing that she was here beside me, bleeding. I must have been bleeding, too. "How bad is it?" I asked her, staring at her. I couldn't bear to look at it myself.

Mo looked away from me. "It's not bad."

I knew she was lying. "Really?"

She smiled a little and gave a shaky laugh. "No. You're pretty beat up."

I closed my eyes again. "Is everyone still fighting?"

There was the sound of Mo moving away, and then returning. "Yes," she answered. It wasn't very positive sounding. We must have been losing.

"God, I'm such an idiot," I sighed.

"No, you aren't. Stop talking. You're making the bleeding worse," Mo commanded, pushing my uninjured shoulder a little.

I reopened my eyes and gave her a look of confusion. "I'm bleeding?" I was still bleeding? Shouldn't I have been able to feel it? Was I dying?

"You mean you can't feel it?"

I shook my head. I was getting tired. Everything was getting fuzzy. "I can't feel anything."

She took one of my hands in hers. Her fingers were warm. It felt…nice. How was she warm in this wind? I was freezing. Something clicked in my head. Hey, I was probably numb from the wind! Ah, that's why I wasn't feeling anything! Meanwhile, Mo was running my fingers through some wet, sticky substance and bringing my hand back up for me to see. My fingertips dripped red onto my already bloodstained uniform. "I am bleeding," I whispered.

She set my hand back down on my stomach and stood.

My eyes widened. She wasn't going to leave me, was she? "Where are you going?" I asked, panicking.

Her reply was curt. "I'm not going anywhere. Stop talking."

Mo was wiping her knife blade against the cement edge, cleaning away the weird alien blood. "Am I going to die?" I asked her, really wanting to know. I was lying in a little puddle of blood, my blood, and I wanted to know my chances of surviving. I didn't want to die. I just wanted to know.

"You will if you don't stop talking. Your movements are making the bleeding worse."

Well, that was that. I was dying. And what, exactly, had I accomplished? I'd gotten myself killed by wasting arrows. Not wasted, really, but rather I didn't use them quite as efficiently as I should have. And now, the rest of the team was fighting a losing battle, and I wasn't able to help. And Mo… I'd put Mo in danger. At least I was dying. That'd be better for everyone, right?

I smiled a little and reached for her with my unscratched arm. My fingers barely brushed the back of her leg, but she shivered. "If I'm going to die, I don't want it to be in silence." Once the words left my lips, I began to wonder if I was delirious.

Mo took off her jacket. That worried me; she was going to freeze. What was she doing? Her newly cleaned knife began to hack away strips of the black fabric. Maybe she was the one that was delirious.

She got back down on her knees and leaned over me. With one of the thin strips, she lifted my bleeding arm and started wrapping. "What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Trying to keep you alive," she murmured.

I pulled my arm out of her grasp, suddenly angry. "No!" I shouted. "You don't need to do that. If I'm going to die, then I'm going to die, Mo!"

"I'm not going to sit here and watch you bleed out!" she snarled, grabbing my wrist and reclaiming my arm. She was glaring at nothing as she tied a knot. There wasn't anything I could do about it now; she was going to try her hardest to keep me alive. It would be a wasted effort, I knew it would.

"Can you sit up?" she asked quietly.

Mo slid an arm under my back while I braced my hands against the chilly cement. Together, we somehow were able to get me up into a sitting position. I was starting to feel the pain again. She wrapped more and more pieces of fabric around my stomach, trying in vain to cover up my side wound. She ran out of strips.

To my surprise, she began to cut away her pant legs. She was really going to freeze now, wearing only a tank top and shorts that fell to above her knees. She seemed satisfied, though. The new "bandages" finished the job. All my wounds were covered in her ripped clothing.

I clenched my jaw against the pain. A slight moan escaped my lips. "I can feel it now," I hissed, referring to the burning pain.

Gently, she set me back against the cement. "It's okay. That should stop you from bleeding out," she softly, brushing what must have been a drop of blood off of my forehead. The arm she used was dripping blood.

"You're still bleeding," I whispered. It was nice of her to care so much, but I could feel myself slipping away. She was going to die of cold, and I was dying from all of my blood loss. Everything was starting to fade. I smiled a little. We could die together, on top of the building, and spend the rest of forever in heaven. Together. That'd be nice.

As Mo looked to her scratched arm, I closed my eyes. Everything went dark.

oOoOo

I pulled an arrow out of my quiver. Placing it against the bow's string, I drew it back and released it. It sailed happily toward the target that waited at the other end of the field.

All around me were trees. Bushes created a little barrier around the meadow I stood in. Flowers were sprinkled in the rest of the available space. Everything had a shiny quality to it, like the sun was bathing it all in warm morning light. Well, I assumed it was morning. It was bright and the air was sweet, but nothing looked like shadows were going to form. I began to wonder if time was passing at all.

If this was heaven, I loved it.

I reached back and extracted another arrow, only to add it to the growing cluster in the center of the target. There must have been fifty arrows waiting for it. The quiver never ran out of the little weapons, always refilling each time I took one out.

I smiled and titled my face to the blue sky. It was close to the shade of Mo's eyes, if not entirely the same. And speaking of Mo…

Turning my head, I looked around. No, she wasn't here yet. What was taking so long? It must take a long time to die from the cold. Unless she didn't die. My morbid thoughts about Mo's death were beginning to creep me out. But wasn't she coming?

"Hawkeye."

The words were barely a whisper, quiet enough that it was hard to determine who was speaking. It sounded familiar.

"Hey, wake up! They're gone!"

What? Who was gone? And how could I wake up? I was dead. I opened my mouth to say something to the person speaking, but hardly any sound came out. It was like mumbling to myself, because I couldn't _see_ anyone.

I couldn't see Mo.

Memories started to flood back. Yes, it was Mo speaking. Or was it? I shook my head. The aliens. We were fighting aliens. Aliens that looked like people, but with extra arms and stuff. They must be gone. But still, wake up? I _had_ died, hadn't I? Why was she asking me to wake up?

Maybe I wasn't really dead. Maybe I just…passed out? Could I have done that? I pinched myself. No, that didn't work. It hurt a little. But it didn't work. I pawed at my eyes, trying to wake up, wake up for Mo.

"Come on, Hawkeye. You're safe. The aliens are gone."

Okay, it was the aliens. And it was Mo. And I was safe. I had to wake up…

I opened my eyes. If they'd had hinges, they would have creaked. That's how heavy and stiff they felt. Mo was hovering over me, relief flooding her face. Her blue eyes were shining with happiness.

Something flickered on inside me. She looked…she looked… I was trying to figure out my words.

She looked beautiful.

The lack of covering other than her shorts, tank top, and boots that she had was tantalizing. But it wasn't her body that had caught me. It was just her. All of her, but who she was the most. She was my savior, the dark angel that wandered in my thoughts, and the dream I'd been having before waking.

"Mo?" I said softly, just to make sure it was really her. Satisfied that it was, I closed my eyes again. "Mo," I repeated with a smile.

"Can you stand?" she asked. I shook my head, moving aside little pieces of…something.

Arms slid underneath me. Strong arms. They were definitely not Mo's.

"Excuse me?" someone asked. I didn't care to look at who it was. I wasn't even sure where I was at. No wind was blowing against me. I opened my eyes. We were standing in an office of sorts, except it looked like a warzone, what with the overturned tables and filing cabinets. People hid behind them. "Who are you?" the same person asked.

Turning my gaze to the person holding me, I saw it was Thor. Okay. At least it wasn't some stranger.

Mo replied with "I'm Animo," and then wind really _was_ hitting me. I shivered as Thor settled me over his shoulder.

I was staring at the cement beneath us. There were the stains that my blood had left. I was still wearing Mo's makeshift bandages, but they felt heavy and damp. Guess I hadn't stopped bleeding after all. Maybe it was stopped now.

Mo climbed up into Thor's arms and rested a hand on my back. Warmth flooded my senses, along with something deeper. Something, er, pinkish, I guess. Pinkish. Yeah, that sounded right. Pinkish. The feeling was wonderful.

I knew then that I was a goner. This was the turning point in the war that I didn't know I was fighting, the war between formality and feeling. The pinkness was flowing through my veins now, as much of a lifeline as my own blood. Mo had saved my life, and unlocked some hidden emotion that I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Pinkish.

Love was pink, right?


	5. Chapter 4: What Can't Be Numbed

Chapter Four: What Can't Be Numbed

A burning sensation made me snap my eyes open. White walls and the smell of a hospital surrounded me. I didn't remember coming here. Did I really pass out again?

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, jerking my body away from the source of the pain.

Someone stood up. I hadn't noticed them sitting on the bed next to mine. They pushed against my shoulder with one hand, making me lay back against the pillows and blankets. "Stop moving around so much. You're already trouble enough without reopening your wounds," they commanded, and I recognized Mo.

Mo. I looked down and saw her fingers entwined with my own. "Mo," I sighed. "What's going on here?"

She smiled, revealing straight white teeth. I briefly recalled a photo of her with braces. "You're getting all fixed up. The fight's over."

My eyes shifted to look at her left arm. I thought the bleeding would have stopped by then, but perhaps not. It was still leaking thin crimson trails down her lightly tanned arm. "You're getting fixed up too, right? You can't walk around bleeding."

"Of course she's getting fixed!" someone else said. I started when I finally noticed there was a nurse standing beside me. I didn't recognize her. She must have been new.

The nurse walked around my bed to Mo's side, holding a needle and thread, a syringe, and a bottle of morphine.

Mo's eyes widened a bit at those items, and then she pushed at the hand with the Novocain. "No," she said stiffly. "Use it on him."

Me? Use it on me? Was she really stubborn enough to get stiches without any way to stall the pain? Apparently. I wouldn't let her though. "Mo, you saved my life. You don't have to give me your morphine." I crossed my arms, wincing a little at the cut one, and glared at her. If she wouldn't take it, I definitely wouldn't.

"I didn't save your life!" she exclaimed, glaring right back.

The nurse had been watching us silently. She spoke up. "Yes, you did." Mo turned to her, giving her the death stare that Natasha sometimes used. "Agent Mo, if you hadn't killed that alien and then fashioned bandages to stop the bleeding, Agent Barton would have no blood left in his system, and he certainly wouldn't be here right now. Give yourself some credit, dear."

Well. That was an interesting way to put it. I pondered for a moment over the image of a bloodless Clint Barton lying atop a building. It was a troubling thought, and gave me more of a reason to feel grateful to my teenage savior.

"We have more morphine than just this. Don't worry about it," Taylor finished.

I fixed an "I told you so" glance on Mo's face, but erased it when I saw her pale face. She turned away from both the nurse and I and instead stared at something that was happening across the room. When the syringe entered her arm, packed with morphine, she squeaked and jumped a little.

The nurse began to thread the needle. _Well, alright,_ I thought drily. _Don't wait until Mo's arm is numb. I didn't know that was how it was done._

Mo's face was terrifying me. Her pale blue eyes were wide, and they refused to look anywhere close to that needle.

So, she was afraid of needles? I stored that away for future use, and turned my attention to her hand. She was still holding on to me. It only took a moment to decide my plan of attack, and just as the needle and thread connected with skin, I gripped Mo's hand as hard as I could.

Her head whipped around to look at me in surprise. She looked down at her hand, and then back up at me. "Clint, that hurts!" she exclaimed. I squeezed harder. I wouldn't let her think about that needle. All Mo needed to do was focus on what was happening right here, with me holding her hand, a lifeline that she didn't know she needed. "What are you doing?" she wailed, trying to pull away. I only watched her until the nurse was finished.

"All done!" the nurse sang happily. Mo's arm was all stitched up, sporting tiny little crosses. I looked at my own injured arm. Hey, we could have matching scars.

When Mo tore her eyes away from her arm, she looked to me. I grinned at her and loosened my grip, but I didn't release her hand. I couldn't help but notice how perfectly it molded to mine. "Thank you," she said softly.

It made me laugh. Why? Oh, I don't know. "Think of it as a small payment for saving me," I replied.

She sighed as the nurse walked over, a fresh needle and thread in hand. I swallowed a little. _All right, Barton, _I thought. _Time to be brave. Do it for Mo._ As the needle stabbed into the space by the cut on my arm, I did my best to got gasp. Instead, I kept watching Mo, inspecting every aspect of her face.

She was running a smooth fingertip across the back of my hand, leaving her dark, dark curls to fall partially in front of her face, a dark curtain to hide behind. On the other side of those tresses were beautiful gray-blue eyes that watched everything intently and betrayed any notion of lies. They were framed by long, thick eyelashes. Her face was lightly, very lightly, tanned, and freckles were sprinkled across her high cheekbones. She bit the corner of her lip, her full, rosy lips. I resisted the urge to touch her face.

"Okay, you guys are all finished." I looked up. The nurse was standing there with a smile. I was all stitched up, finally.

"Good. They need to come with me."

Both Mo and I jumped when Rogers spoke. I hadn't noticed him enter the infirmary. "Hey, Cap," I greeted, trying to sit up.

Mo shoved me back down. "What's up?" she asked him smoothly, giving me a stern look before turning to the captain.

"Fury's got something to show you, if you'll follow me." With that, Rogers turned right back around and began to walk away, leaving us to wonder what in the hell he was talking about. If it was Fury, it was nothing good.

Mo got to her feet. I tried; I really did.

"No, no, no!" the nurse exclaimed, waving hyperactive hands at me. "You need to rest, Agent Barton. I'm sure one of your friends can come back later to tell you what the big news is."

I glared at her and glanced at Mo. Surely she could get me out of here. Thankfully, she did indeed speak up. "I can keep an eye on him, Taylor. If he starts getting tired or something happens to the stitches, I'll send him right back." Then, to my amusement, she held up her hand and gave a big grin. "Scout's honor," she promised.

The nurse, apparently called Taylor, sighed. "Okay, okay," she shrugged, giving in.

I was being jostled next as the two of them tried to get me off of the bed without hurting me. Luckily, the morphine was still in effect, and I couldn't feel much of anything. I did, however, feel Mo let go of my hand to push on my back.

Successfully off the bed, I leaned lightly against Mo's shoulder. Without even so much as a look or request from me, she slid her hand right back into mine. We walked away from Taylor's concerned gaze and met Rogers at the door. The man, ever the gentleman, took my other arm. We left the infirmary in silence, with my eyes darting to look at Mo every step of the way.

Fury stood in the center of the control room on that little platform he was so fond of. The rest of the team was lounging around him, talking quietly amongst them.

Fury seemed to take notice of us then, or Mo, rather, because he spun around, his eyes wild with anger. "How nice of you to come back," he snarled, giving her a look of complete disgust. She tensed beside me. I gripped her hand, as she opened her mouth, but the director wasn't finished just yet. "Don't ever disobey my orders again. You could have been killed!" He was shouting now, and it was a little unnerving, seeing him that angry. Fury was usually cold and uncaring, not brash like this.

Mo squared her shoulders and retorted, "I would rather be slaughtered out there than stand on the sidelines and watch everyone else die!"

"None of them died!" Fury's fists were clenched at his sides.

He was hitting a nerve. Not only was he shouting at Mo, which was completely absurd, but he was also disregarding the fact that I _would_ have died if she hadn't disobeyed orders and come to my rescue. "I almost did!" I yelled, livid.

Everyone went silent, their faces looking back and forth between Fury, Mo, and me. I lowered my voice. "What were you planning on doing, Fury? Were you going to send someone else in, or were you just going to leave me there to drown in my own blood?"

No one said anything. I stared at Fury, cold anger in my eyes, but he wasn't looking at anyone. His face was blank, passive, like he could care less what happened to any of us.

Mo broke the uneasy silence. "Is this what we had to come here for?" She was speaking to Rogers, who appeared uncomfortable with the situation. "So Fury could yell at me for doing the right thing?"

That was an interesting way to put it, getting in trouble for doing what was right. Really, the only thing she'd done wrong was going against Fury's orders, but Stark did that all the time. Surely, he could see that it was he who was at fault, and not the young girl he'd ordered us to kidnap.

"No, that wasn't what," was Stark's reply. To my amusement and utter satisfaction, he stepped up next to the director. With any words exchanged between the two of them, Stark nudged Fury aside and began to tap away on the screen in front of him until a video appeared on screen. "This is."

I knew what this was before he'd even hit play. With my free hand, I gave Mo a gentle push from behind. She smiled at me, a gesture that sent my heart thudding, and went to stand by Stark, dragging me along behind her. Thor gripped my elbow and I managed to get onto the short platform. Stark moved a little to the side, trying to give us room.

A Youtube video began playing. There was Mo, falling through the air, being attacked by one of those aliens. The real Mo moved closer to the screen, her blue eyes wide with wonder.

She crashed into the building where I was lying, fighting off an alien of my own. I cringed; that looked like it hurt. But she regained her faculties quickly, scaling the wall at an impressive speed. Whoever had taken the video was quite a ways away. You could still tell it was Mo, though, and not an alien.

The screen slid into a news broadcast and an anchorwoman warning everyone not to leave the house.

The next video had Mo leaping onto the alien's back while I laid sprawled on the cement rooftop. Mo's fists clenched in front of me. She must have come to the same realization that I had: someone from the office was taking that video.

Mo was slicing away at her jacket and pants on the screen before a slide of Natasha and Rogers fighting side by side was shown. Then Mo was back again, smashing through a window.

That took me by surprise. She broke a window? When did _that_ happen? _I must have already been unconscious,_ I thought, nodding a little to myself.

My eyebrows rose at the close-up on her face. Her words dripped with venom as she snarled, "If any of you touch him, I will come back, and I will kill you. Get it?" Her warning was answered by several nods and frightened faces, and I didn't blame them; Mo looked downright terrifying.

Then Mo was being held by the Hulk as they fell through the air. Another broadcast played out, asking exactly who was this new hero?

"I'm Animo," the video Mo growled as she stood in the office once more. Her feet were placed in an offensive stance in front of Thor. I was lying in his arms, drenched in my own blood. Her blood dripped down her arm, her hair looked dramatically windblown, and she wore only a tank top, shorts, and her boots. That was the Mo I had seen when I'd woken up.

That was the Mo I'd fallen in love with, wasn't it?

No.

I looked at the Mo that held my hand. She was staring intently at the screen, watching another anchorman rave about how Animo was not one to mess with. A little smile played across her lips, lighting up her face. She didn't seem so dangerous anymore. She looked like an innocent child now, and that's almost what she was.

That was the Mo I'd fallen in love with.

My head started to spin. An innocent child. We brought an innocent child into a group that was always met with destruction. And I fell in love with her.

I was sick.

Stark clapped loudly as the video ended. Everyone else was silent.

I spoke up, trying to keep my voice even. "How many views?"

A large, very large, number appeared on screen after Stark tapped it a few more times. "Three million and thirty-seven, and the number increases with each passing second" was his boasting reply. Then, to my astonishment, and probably Mo's too, he threw an arms across her shoulders and pulled her close. "Way to go, Mo. You've gone viral."

He refreshed the screen and the number grew. Mo's face portrayed only shock.

I squeezed her hand, not bothering to stop myself. _Who cares if I'm a creepy man who loves teenagers? _I smiled grimly to myself, and then grinned at Mo as she turned. Then I bumped her with my shoulder. "You're famous," I told her, thinking about how she'd never feel the same.

But she kissed me. Or my cheek, rather. My eyes widened in surprise as I suppressed the urge to jerk backwards, away from the electricity. "I wouldn't be if you hadn't almost died," she replied, nudging me back.

"Oh, get a room, you two," Natasha scoffed from behind us. That reminded me of how I still hadn't had my conversation with her.

Mo turned to her with a smile, but Natasha did nothing, just stared at her with empty eyes. The young girl turned back, looking crestfallen. It broke my heart a little, seeing it.

I leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Don't take it to heart. That means you're her friend."

"Funny way of showing it," Mo muttered back. I laughed quietly.

Stark turned back around, after closing out of the video, and gave Fury a smug look. "So, Fury, I believe that an apology is in order. This girl here – " I watched him tap a light hand against Mo's shoulder. " – has done nothing but good for everyone." Then he stopped, a thoughtful gleam in his dark eyes. "Well, maybe not your ego. It's not too often that you're wrong, now is it?"

Fury glared at Mo. I moved a little closer to her, pressing up against her side. I didn't like the look on his face. "My sincerest apologies, Agent. I will have to let you fight these sorts of battles more often," he growled at her.

Surprising all of us, Mo stood a little straighter and raised her free hand in a sort of salute. In Fury's voice, she answered, "I am also sorry, sir. I should not have acted as impulsively as I did." We all chuckled.

Slowly, Fury came around. He lifted his own hand. "Apology accepted, Agent."

I caught Mo's eye and smiled. With a slight squeeze of her hand, I swung our entwined fingers back and forth, trying not to make it appear too obvious that this little display of affection was pleasing me, no matter if they knew what it was or not.

She dropped my head suddenly and moved away. "Hey!" she said, sounding startled, as she moved over to a different screen. Her fingertips raked the air just in front of a woman's face, and I recognized her mother. Her brother and father stood on camera as well. Microphones were being shoved in their faces, namely the woman who raised the object of my affection.

"Do you find it a coincidence that your daughter went missing less than a month ago, and a new hero turns up in New York?" a peppy blonde reporter was asking her, almost shoving the microphone down the lady's throat. "From the pictures I've seen, the resemblance between the two of them is remarkable."

"Oh no," her mother replied with a shake of her head. "That's not my Mo. She always said how much she hated cities. And how would she be a hero, anyway? She doesn't have any superpowers. And that girl, that Animo girl. She looks nothing like my daughter."

Mo's face fell as she turned away from the screen. Her eyes were clouded over as she half stumbled half fell off of the platform. Hurt and confusion registered on her face, and I had to admit, I was confused too. How did her mom not know her? Was it that easy to forget a face as beautiful as her daughter's? I didn't see how it could be possible.

Thor draped an arm over her shoulders and Stark looped one around her waist. I tried not to scowl at them as I went to stand beside Natasha. My red-haired friend was looking just as clueless as I was. Banner, Rogers, Stark, and Thor were smiling.

Fury was almost laughing, which puzzled me even more. "I'm going to assume that someone forgot to brief her on our little arrangement?" With those words, I was running on out-of-the-loop overdose.

"Arrangement?" Mo asked, but Fury only closed his eyes in an exasperated manner.

"You see, Mo," Stark replied, pulling her toward him until she was practically glued to his side. Thor dropped his arm while I clenched my fists. "The night we took you, we spoke to your parents. Let them know what was going on, assured them that you'd be safe with us."

"Really?"

"Of course," Rogers answered, speaking up.

"Did you really think we'd take you without permission?" Banner gave a small smile.

"No, I guess not," Mo admitted, and I could see the relief rush to her face, softening all of her features. She may have been satisfied with the answer, but one look at Natasha confirmed that the two of us were definitely not okay; we'd been left out of the loop.

Stark enveloped Mo in a bear hug. "That's my girl!" he caroled in a sing-song voice.

Anger flared up inside me once more. "Let go," Mo hissed, and it quickly faded away. _That's _my _girl, _I thought smugly.

Stark smacked a kiss on the top of her head before letting go. She stepped back, running into Thor, who used one of his big hands to ruffle her hair. She stepped backward, away from them all, and glowered silently.

With the varying degrees of jealousy that I was feeling, something burned underneath. Pain. I gritted my teeth as I realized the medication was wearing off. It must not have been too strong, to be going away so quickly. Sweat was beginning to bead on my forehead. I wiped a shaky hand across it, trying to hide my wince.

Mo was staring at me from beneath long black eyelashes. Her eyes said what her words didn't: _Are you hurting?_

I shook my head, not wanting her to worry.

Of course, I couldn't convince her. She gave me a suspicious glance. I shrugged, but didn't quite catch my look of agony in time. She stalked forward and linked her arm through mine, spinning me a hundred and eighty degrees.

As she led me away, she called over her shoulder, "I'll be back. My morphine is wearing off."

Safely in the hallway and out of earshot, I told her, "Nice cover. But you didn't have to do that. They know I'm not weak." In my fevered state of mind, I really thought she was saying it to cover up for me. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't. I wasn't so sure.

I slipped her hand into mine and leaned her head against my shoulder. "Says the man who got his side tore open and was saved by a teenager."

I smiled, but stumbled simultaneously.

She moved closer to me, raising her head. "Here, pretty damsel, lean on me."

My voice was shaking, and I cursed myself for it. "No, no, I'm fine. Really. It's not even that far now." I tried to laugh, but it sounded strange as it escaped my mouth. "And who are you calling a damsel?"

She grinned evilly at me. "You, always being in danger."

I bumped her with my hip, knocking her aside just a bit. "I _live_ for danger, dear." As soon as the words slipped past my lips, I regretted them. Was I trying to give myself away? A relationship with Mo would never work out. Would it? Could she ever be with someone as old as I was?

"Well, _dear_," she snarled in a chilly tone. "We're here."

I raised my eyebrows at her, noticing that we were outside the infirmary door. What was she so angry about? Yeah, I picked the wrong word to use, but what was her irritation for?

"I thought I heard your voice, Agent Mo," the nurse, Taylor, said from the doorway. "What's the problem? Has his morphine worn off?"

I felt one of Mo's small hands shove me forward, and I stepped blindly toward the room that smelled of disinfectant. "Now go get better," she muttered darkly.

I glanced at her over my shoulder as Taylor tugged me into the infirmary. I struggled to hide my hurt, but it wasn't working. Pain from the wounds and pain from my heart were plaguing me. "Sorry, I was just trying to…" I began, but was cut off as the door shut in her face.

_…show you I love you._


	6. Chapter 5: Belle of the Ball

Chapter Five: Belle of the Ball

Three days later, I was released from the hospital. While in there, I'd been thinking about Mo. Of course I was; she was all I thought about. But her sudden anger at me the day of the attack…what was that about? It was that idea that plagued my mind for seventy-two hours.

"Agent Barton, we need you in the conference room immediately."

I stood from my hospital bed and waved a final good-bye to Taylor. "It'll be a while before I'm back in here, hopefully," I remarked with a smile. She grinned at me as I walked out. "I'm on my way, Fury," I spoke into my earpiece. "What's going on?"

"Just get here, Agent."

I sighed. "Yes, sir."

Taking long strides down the empty hallways, I was there in no time. Fury was just ahead of me, escorting Mo inside the room. I steeled myself and slid in right behind her.

The rest of the team was already there. Thor and Banner were talking quietly, every once in a while throwing a look at Mo. Rogers was sitting perfectly upright; must have been habit, being in the military and all. Natasha was looking at her fingers. Stark was lounging with his feet on the table.

Mo seemed to notice me then. "Shouldn't you be on bed rest?"

"Got out early for good behavior," I replied emotionlessly. I didn't want to set her off again, not before I knew what made her tick. From the look in her eye, I wasn't quite there yet. So I directed my attention at Fury. "What's the problem?"

"We've received intelligence from an unnamed source, claiming to know of a man involved with the alien attack" was his curt answer.

I raised my eyebrows. _Wow, really?_ I thought, impressed. We had information already? And of that magnitude, too. Must have been a new record around S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What would you like us to do, sir?" Rogers asked.

Fury started pacing, keeping his gaze from resting on any of us. That probably wasn't a good sign. "The man goes by the name Chris Garfield, who supposedly has a lot of money. It would also appear as though he's hosting a party this weekend. And everyone is invited."

_What? That's it?_ Seven pairs of eyes were trained on his face, yearning for more.

"Agent Romanoff." I watched Natasha put her hand down and fix Fury with a level stare. "We need you to keep the guards busy. We don't want any trouble arising before the mission is complete. As for the rest of you, go find something nice to wear." Then he left the room without a backward glance. "Also, make sure you can dance by Saturday night."

Mo looked like she was having difficulty keeping up. The confused look on her face was priceless, and sort of adorable, though I'd never tell her so. "That's it?" she scoffed. "No other instructions?"

"Looks like we're on our own this time," Rogers replied.

Stark began to laugh. "Well, this should be fun."

"Does he really want me to be in where there's a crowd? I can see that not going very well," Banner spoke up, staring at the floor with his wrist in his other hand.

"You'll be fine, Banner. We all trust you," Natasha told him in her convincing voice that she used in extreme cases. Very rarely was she ever that kind, but she had a kind of soft spot for our unstable friend. Mo was nodding beside her, a reassuring smile on her face.

I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall, mindful of my stitches. Oddly enough, they looked almost identical to the ones that Mo had. I snorted at this realization before switching my attention to Rogers, our designated leader. "So, what's the plan?"

Rogers had that look that he got when he was thinking hard. "Where would Mr. Garfield keep his information?"

There was a pause while we thought. Personally, I had nothing, but Mo appeared to be onto something. "In a locked room, maybe?" she supplied hesitantly. "That seems to be a recurring theme with these types of people." There were nods of approval, and she smiled.

"Right," Rogers nodded.

"Or in a computer. I could get Jarvis to hack into his systems." Stark had a thumb pressed to his chin, his eyes narrowed at something the rest of us couldn't see.

Natasha decided to speak up in her typical dry manner. "Do you realize how much attention you'd draw, Stark, being you? Trying to hack into the computers would only cause more problems for us."

Slowly, Stark's prize-winning grin spread across his lips. Humor danced in brown eyes. "That's why you'll be 'distracting' the guards, Romanoff. Leave the heavy work to us."

Natasha rolled her eyes while Mo countered with "Shut up, Stark."

"I do not understand. Will we not stand out from this group of Midgardians? They must all have seen our faces before," Thor put in, adding an excellent point that I hadn't considered. By the look on Rogers's face, I assumed he hadn't, either.

Fury decided to rejoin the party through our earpieces. "Lucky it's a masquerade party then. Find a mask, find an outfit. Listen closely, now: Agent Mo is going to be our infiltrator."

Six pairs of eyes turned in surprise to Mo's face, which wasn't registering any sort of emotion. All she did was press a finger against her ear, like she was either trying to hear him more clearly or shut the noise out altogether. I wasn't sure which one I believed.

Fury was continuing on. "The rest of you are to act as normal partygoers. Ask around for information while Agent Mo is off doing her thing. Agent Romanoff, try doing the same before you damage the guards too much." I snorted, and so did several of the others. "Am I making myself clear?"

Nods all around. "Yes, sir," Rogers replied, answering for the rest of us.

"Good." And that was that.

Disbelief was a pretty common look after that. I was still having difficulty comprehending that we had gotten a lead so soon after the aliens' appearance. And, of course, I was wondering why Mo didn't look worried. _Oh well,_ I shrugged. _I can worry about her enough for both of us._

Stark was looking pleased with himself. In that ridiculous Captain America pose he liked to imitate, he caroled, "I am buying all of your suits and dresses." Before anyone could say anything, he held up his hand for silence. "No need to thank me, patrons, I've got more money than I can handle anyway."

I shook my head. _Yeah, you do. That's why Pepper handles it._

A plan was rustled up not long after, with minimal input on my part. I was too busy watching Mo. But the idea was something like this: Natasha would distract the guards, Mo would find Garfield and investigate, and the rest of us would ask around for any further clues.

Simple enough.

Rogers dismissed us after all of that was settled. I was toward the back of the group as we filed out, and Mo slid back to linger by me. "Hey, you," she said quietly. "What's bothering you?"

I wouldn't look at her when I answered, "Nothing."

"I'm sorry for being cross with you the other day. I'm not sure what came over me." Her hand was resting ever so lightly on my arm, but it was enough to send chills up my spine. Still I refused to meet her gaze, even though undertones of concern littered her words.

"No, I get it. Sometimes the city changes people," I told her, being completely honest.

I could feel her shock. "Did it change you?"

Now I did look at her, and my eyes met her for what seemed like an eternity. All the emotions she'd been hiding earlier were present now: all of the fear, the worry, and also the excitement. I wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay, but her question was still ringing in my head. _Did it change you?_

I walked away toward the flight deck, knowing it was opposite the way she had to go, and knowing she wouldn't follow. I left her standing there without an answer, but what I would have, should have, said was playing over and over again in my consciousness.

_Yes, Mo,_ I thought wearily. _The city changed me. It turned me into a monster. A monster that falls in love with a young girl and can't let that grip go. And it disgusts me, Mo, but what can I do? What can I do but love you?_

oOoOo

I tugged distractedly at my tuxedo's sleeves. Smooth black material slipped through my fingers. My white bowtie was choking me, and the thought of looking exactly like the rest of the guys was beginning to lose its initial effect. It wasn't so funny anymore.

Nevertheless, as we waited outside the women's bathroom door, I couldn't help but notice how odd it was to see us all dressed up fancily. It was a bit like when we went to get Mo, only with more…fashion?

Natasha looked wonderful in her long black dress. Her spidery looking masquerade mask dangled from her fingertips as she flashed me a smile. I smiled back and returned my attention to the door.

Stark had been tapping his feet impatiently, but he was striding forward now to bang a thick fist against the metal. "Mo? How long can it possibly take you in there?" he hollered, irritation flaring in his eyes.

The door slowly opened, and he took a step backward. Out walked Mo, her face down and hidden behind her straightened hair. It looked lighter and longer. When she spoke, her voice was barely higher than a whisper, yet it was so quiet in the room that I could catch every word. "It'd take you a little while to make yourself look older, too, Stark. But I guess you'd have to try making yourself look younger first."

I laughed. Stark, with very obvious sarcasm, countered with "Very funny. Now, look at us."

Nobody was prepared for what happened when she lifted her head. Everything went deadly silent, quieter than it'd been before. And yes, that was entirely possible. Because the girl – no, she looked more like an adult now – deserved the lack of sound while we took her in.

Her hair hung to the middle of her back. The dress she wore was beautiful. White silk fell to her knees and caressed one arm, the arm that held her cuts. Her grayish eyes were trained on the ceiling, ringed by smoky black that came to points at the outer edges. Her lips pressed together in a ruby red pout. Black heels made her inches taller. Her hand rested on her hip.

Every viewing face registered shock in its rawest form. Widened eyes, slack jaws, and raised eyebrows. My display was completed with a quickening heartbeat and a loss for any sort of words. Stark looked to be in a similar state, as did the rest of the men. Natasha's look was a mixture of astonishment and jealousy. She had every reason to be the latter.

"Well?" Mo snarled, tearing her attention away from the ceiling. Twitchy fingers smoothed out curls that weren't there. "What?" she asked, and those hands went to the end of her dress as she pulled at it self-consciously.

Someone cleared their throat. "What do we think?" Rogers asked.

After several failed attempts at speech, Stark finally gave a small, quavering laugh. "I think I wish I was Chris Garfield."

Mo chewed her bottom lip. "Where's my mask?" she inquired.

Rogers pointed to a table where the final mask laid, the one made specifically for Mo. All of ours were custom made, but I liked hers more than anyone else's. It resembled a cat.

With the mask on, she started to laugh. "Y-you all match!"

It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Stark, Rogers, Banner, Thor, and me. When I did notice, however, it worried me a little. Her behavior did, actually; this wasn't like her, acting hysterical like that.

"It's just from nervous tension." That was Banner's voice. "She'll be fine once we get there."

"I'm fine now!" she exclaimed, ushering us to forget she'd done that. Another little giggle slipped out. She crossed her arms and glared.

"We should get going then, shouldn't we?" Stark strode forward while the rest of us stood there, unsure of what to do. He easily linked an arm through Mo's and dragged her toward the elevator. "Gorgeous, your chariot awaits," he said proudly, shooting me a triumphant glance over his shoulder.

_So, he must suspect something, then,_ I thought angrily. I showed no emotion on my face, but I chewed on the inside of my cheek in frustration.

After all, I'd just lost my date to Stark.

oOoOo

Arms crossed, my eyes narrowed on Stark's leering face. His own mask was shielding his eyes from my view, but I knew they contained silent gloating. That was just how he was.

Rogers gathered us in a circle. Heads bent close together, our voices lowered so as not to be heard by the guests that were flowing in. In that moment, we were ducked behind some stranger's car. "Does everyone remember what they're supposed to be doing?" Rogers murmured. One by one, we all nodded. "Good. Best of luck to you all."

We backed up and moved away from each other, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Natasha began to walk toward the front door, Rogers right behind her. Before she went, she placed a hand on Mo's arm. And then she was gone.

I couldn't see Mo's eyes, either. Even if they hadn't been covered, the sun was setting and light was fading quickly. Some part of me knew that she was a little worried about what was going to happen.

With quiet footsteps, I went to stand behind her. "They'll be fine," I whispered into her ear.

"I know they will," she said back, her voice heavy with relief. Relief at what? I sure as hell didn't know. We hadn't even entered the house and she was talking like it was over.

I shrugged and left her with Stark. Collecting Banner from where he stood nearby, the two of us followed in Natasha and Rogers's footsteps, taking easy strides toward where warm light was shining from an open door.

"Well, this will be fun," Banner laughed. "Do you want to take a bet on how long it'll be before the other guy makes an appearance?"

I chuckled. "No, I'd prefer a bet over whether or not our host makes one. That'd seem fairer to me, anyway." Internally, I was hoping that Chris Garfield wouldn't show up at all. It'd keep Mo and the rest of us safer. But there was no chance of that happening; it was the guy's house, and who could stay away from Mo, especially when she was dressed like that?

My words started a round of inquiries about the mystery man. "Do you think he's ugly?" Banner asked.

"Nah, I bet he looks like a supermodel."

"What kind of supermodel?"

"Underwear model, maybe? Those make the most money, right?"

"How should I know? I wasn't one."

"I bet he got all his money from Daddy."

"Sounds about right. Or he stole it. I could picture that."

"Could be. Married?"

"Let's hope not. Otherwise Mo doesn't stand a chance."

That sobered up our joviality. Mo had to succeed. If not, we had nothing to report to Fury. No way of knowing if our guy was working with the aliens. There's no way anyone else would know; it's not the kind of thing you just tell complete strangers.

"She's going to be all right, Barton." Banner was giving me a stern look as we passed by the guards. "We're going to make sure of it."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know. So what do we do now?"

For a moment there wasn't an answer, besides the obvious one. Ask questions. But how would we go about that? I spied a table standing not far off. Cups were filled to the brim with amber liquid.

Banner saw it, too. "We get beer."

oOoOo

An empty glass in my hand, I leaned against one of the grand staircases, feeling very much discouraged. So far, Banner and I hadn't come up with anything even remotely useful in our hunt for information, and the sight of Mo dancing with Stark made me want to pull my teeth out with pliers.

From where the two of us stood at the side of the room, it was easy enough to spy on everyone there. Not that anything looked suspicious. Thor was chatting with a group of college girls with eyes as big as saucers. Stark was laughing with a group of older gentlemen. Rogers had Mo in his arms now.

"Where do you suppose Garfield is?" I asked, chewing on my thumb and staring intently at Mo's face as she switched over to Thor.

Banner finished the last swallow of his drink. "It is a little odd that he hasn't shown up yet." He looked at me. "What do you want to do?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a group of guys standing around enjoying the free booze. There was about five or six of them, and each was dressed exquisitely. Surely they'd know where the man of the hour was. _No, _I thought. _You can't just walk over and ask. They'd laugh at you. You just need…_

I quickly explained my thoughts to Banner, and off he went. I rested the glass on one of the stairs and turned my back on the crowd. An eager grin spread across my lips, flashing teeth at nobody in particular.

It wasn't long until Banner was back with our cargo. "Here, I brought her. I don't see why you couldn't just get her yourself." Then Banner was gone, melting back into the crowd.

With a broad smile, I spun around any kissed Mo on one of her hands. "May I have this dance?" I requested, fluttering my eyelashes imploringly at her.

She let out a giggle, her blue eyes shining with good humor. "Of course you can. What's with all this?" Her mouth twisted into a smirk as she looked me up and down.

I rested my free hand on her waist and pulled her close against me. I leaned forward until our noses were almost touching, and replied, "Stepping up the show, dear Mo."

Brief shock registered before she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Garfield hasn't made an appearance yet. I was just thinking, and Banner and Thor helped me with it, but you need to look more desirable. Well, more than you already do." I winked. "Just dancing with us won't cut it. You could be any girl dancing with any guy. But instead, you're Mo, dancing with me."

With the sweetest of smiles, she tilted her head. "And what difference should that make?"

"We're not just dancing. We're going to move around, together, and socialize. Get you noticed. You can't stay on the dance floor and expect him to see you." I lifted my arm and spun her in a circle. "So let's go."

To my satisfaction, she didn't let go of my hand as we walked away from the mass of dancing bodies. I escorted her to the men I'd taken notice of earlier. In my best winning voice, I greeted them with, "Hello, nice evening, isn't it?"

Eyes of various colors turned hungry eyes to Mo, travelling and exploring every inch of her body. Suddenly, I was thinking this was a bad, very bad, idea. Trying not to look conspicuous, I moved to the left, shielding her body with most of mine. "Beautiful night, in fact," I continued, my voice hardening.

One of the men sported dark hair that grew so long that it almost covered both of his equally dark eyes. "Who's your friend?" he asked, his voice friendly with undertones of danger.

"This is Jenna," I answered. "My girlfriend."

I knew I'd taken it too far when Mo came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. She lifted our hands and rubbed them against her cheek. "But we aren't exclusive," she added. Her tone was of absolute seduction, and I kind of wished – no, desperately wished – that I was Chris Garfield, or even this man here, just to be on the receiving end of her words.

The man stalked up to Mo and lifted her chin with one finger. "Is that so?" he asked with a wolfish grin. "Well, Jenna, you're the most gorgeous girl I've seen here all night. Prettier than night itself."

I almost gagged, and from the look on Mo's face, she almost did too. Where did this guy get his pickup lines from? Although, they wouldn't matter much to any dimwitted girl; he had impressive looks, for sure. But it'd take more than that to get Mo to pine after him. Stark was like that to, and she absolutely despised him.

"Am I really?" she asked.

With gentle fingers, I turned her face my way, stepping up my act. This guy wasn't taking Mo from me. "You should know, kitten, I tell you every day."

She wrenched her head away from me and looked back to those dark eyes. With an air of irritation, she snapped, "Jeremy, please, you're smothering me." I raised my eyebrows. Jeremy? Did she just call me Jeremy? "So, you boys must know our host, yes?" she continued.

"Who wants to know?" The guy was looking a little pissed that I'd just diverted Mo's attention from him, if only for a little bit. It made me feel good inside, but he crossed his arms with a glare.

"Why, me, of course. I've been looking for him all night." Her blue eyes clouded with hurt that I sincerely hoped was fake. Otherwise, I'd break his neck.

Without any warning whatsoever, Mo was pulled from my grasp and twirled in a circle. The guy had bent her backward and was holding her way too close. He looked all too comfortable in that position. "Well, Princess, you found me. And now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?"

As they righted themselves, Mo replied easily with "Well, Mr. Garfield, I guess it's up to you."

I kept my jaw from dropping in surprise as I met the thieving gaze of our host.


	7. Chapter 6: Cinderella

Chapter Five: Belle of the Ball

Three days later, I was released from the hospital. While in there, I'd been thinking about Mo. Of course I was; she was all I thought about. But her sudden anger at me the day of the attack…what was that about? It was that idea that plagued my mind for seventy-two hours.

"Agent Barton, we need you in the conference room immediately."

I stood from my hospital bed and waved a final good-bye to Taylor. "It'll be a while before I'm back in here, hopefully," I remarked with a smile. She grinned at me as I walked out. "I'm on my way, Fury," I spoke into my earpiece. "What's going on?"

"Just get here, Agent."

I sighed. "Yes, sir."

Taking long strides down the empty hallways, I was there in no time. Fury was just ahead of me, escorting Mo inside the room. I steeled myself and slid in right behind her.

The rest of the team was already there. Thor and Banner were talking quietly, every once in a while throwing a look at Mo. Rogers was sitting perfectly upright; must have been habit, being in the military and all. Natasha was looking at her fingers. Stark was lounging with his feet on the table.

Mo seemed to notice me then. "Shouldn't you be on bed rest?"

"Got out early for good behavior," I replied emotionlessly. I didn't want to set her off again, not before I knew what made her tick. From the look in her eye, I wasn't quite there yet. So I directed my attention at Fury. "What's the problem?"

"We've received intelligence from an unnamed source, claiming to know of a man involved with the alien attack" was his curt answer.

I raised my eyebrows. _Wow, really?_ I thought, impressed. We had information already? And of that magnitude, too. Must have been a new record around S.H.I.E.L.D.

"What would you like us to do, sir?" Rogers asked.

Fury started pacing, keeping his gaze from resting on any of us. That probably wasn't a good sign. "The man goes by the name Chris Garfield, who supposedly has a lot of money. It would also appear as though he's hosting a party this weekend. And everyone is invited."

_What? That's it?_ Seven pairs of eyes were trained on his face, yearning for more.

"Agent Romanoff." I watched Natasha put her hand down and fix Fury with a level stare. "We need you to keep the guards busy. We don't want any trouble arising before the mission is complete. As for the rest of you, go find something nice to wear." Then he left the room without a backward glance. "Also, make sure you can dance by Saturday night."

Mo looked like she was having difficulty keeping up. The confused look on her face was priceless, and sort of adorable, though I'd never tell her so. "That's it?" she scoffed. "No other instructions?"

"Looks like we're on our own this time," Rogers replied.

Stark began to laugh. "Well, this should be fun."

"Does he really want me to be in where there's a crowd? I can see that not going very well," Banner spoke up, staring at the floor with his wrist in his other hand.

"You'll be fine, Banner. We all trust you," Natasha told him in her convincing voice that she used in extreme cases. Very rarely was she ever that kind, but she had a kind of soft spot for our unstable friend. Mo was nodding beside her, a reassuring smile on her face.

I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall, mindful of my stitches. Oddly enough, they looked almost identical to the ones that Mo had. I snorted at this realization before switching my attention to Rogers, our designated leader. "So, what's the plan?"

Rogers had that look that he got when he was thinking hard. "Where would Mr. Garfield keep his information?"

There was a pause while we thought. Personally, I had nothing, but Mo appeared to be onto something. "In a locked room, maybe?" she supplied hesitantly. "That seems to be a recurring theme with these types of people." There were nods of approval, and she smiled.

"Right," Rogers nodded.

"Or in a computer. I could get Jarvis to hack into his systems." Stark had a thumb pressed to his chin, his eyes narrowed at something the rest of us couldn't see.

Natasha decided to speak up in her typical dry manner. "Do you realize how much attention you'd draw, Stark, being you? Trying to hack into the computers would only cause more problems for us."

Slowly, Stark's prize-winning grin spread across his lips. Humor danced in brown eyes. "That's why you'll be 'distracting' the guards, Romanoff. Leave the heavy work to us."

Natasha rolled her eyes while Mo countered with "Shut up, Stark."

"I do not understand. Will we not stand out from this group of Midgardians? They must all have seen our faces before," Thor put in, adding an excellent point that I hadn't considered. By the look on Rogers's face, I assumed he hadn't, either.

Fury decided to rejoin the party through our earpieces. "Lucky it's a masquerade party then. Find a mask, find an outfit. Listen closely, now: Agent Mo is going to be our infiltrator."

Six pairs of eyes turned in surprise to Mo's face, which wasn't registering any sort of emotion. All she did was press a finger against her ear, like she was either trying to hear him more clearly or shut the noise out altogether. I wasn't sure which one I believed.

Fury was continuing on. "The rest of you are to act as normal partygoers. Ask around for information while Agent Mo is off doing her thing. Agent Romanoff, try doing the same before you damage the guards too much." I snorted, and so did several of the others. "Am I making myself clear?"

Nods all around. "Yes, sir," Rogers replied, answering for the rest of us.

"Good." And that was that.

Disbelief was a pretty common look after that. I was still having difficulty comprehending that we had gotten a lead so soon after the aliens' appearance. And, of course, I was wondering why Mo didn't look worried. _Oh well,_ I shrugged. _I can worry about her enough for both of us._

Stark was looking pleased with himself. In that ridiculous Captain America pose he liked to imitate, he caroled, "I am buying all of your suits and dresses." Before anyone could say anything, he held up his hand for silence. "No need to thank me, patrons, I've got more money than I can handle anyway."

I shook my head. _Yeah, you do. That's why Pepper handles it._

A plan was rustled up not long after, with minimal input on my part. I was too busy watching Mo. But the idea was something like this: Natasha would distract the guards, Mo would find Garfield and investigate, and the rest of us would ask around for any further clues.

Simple enough.

Rogers dismissed us after all of that was settled. I was toward the back of the group as we filed out, and Mo slid back to linger by me. "Hey, you," she said quietly. "What's bothering you?"

I wouldn't look at her when I answered, "Nothing."

"I'm sorry for being cross with you the other day. I'm not sure what came over me." Her hand was resting ever so lightly on my arm, but it was enough to send chills up my spine. Still I refused to meet her gaze, even though undertones of concern littered her words.

"No, I get it. Sometimes the city changes people," I told her, being completely honest.

I could feel her shock. "Did it change you?"

Now I did look at her, and my eyes met her for what seemed like an eternity. All the emotions she'd been hiding earlier were present now: all of the fear, the worry, and also the excitement. I wanted to hug her, to tell her it would all be okay, but her question was still ringing in my head. _Did it change you?_

I walked away toward the flight deck, knowing it was opposite the way she had to go, and knowing she wouldn't follow. I left her standing there without an answer, but what I would have, should have, said was playing over and over again in my consciousness.

_Yes, Mo,_ I thought wearily. _The city changed me. It turned me into a monster. A monster that falls in love with a young girl and can't let that grip go. And it disgusts me, Mo, but what can I do? What can I do but love you?_

oOoOo

I tugged distractedly at my tuxedo's sleeves. Smooth black material slipped through my fingers. My white bowtie was choking me, and the thought of looking exactly like the rest of the guys was beginning to lose its initial effect. It wasn't so funny anymore.

Nevertheless, as we waited outside the women's bathroom door, I couldn't help but notice how odd it was to see us all dressed up fancily. It was a bit like when we went to get Mo, only with more…fashion?

Natasha looked wonderful in her long black dress. Her spidery looking masquerade mask dangled from her fingertips as she flashed me a smile. I smiled back and returned my attention to the door.

Stark had been tapping his feet impatiently, but he was striding forward now to bang a thick fist against the metal. "Mo? How long can it possibly take you in there?" he hollered, irritation flaring in his eyes.

The door slowly opened, and he took a step backward. Out walked Mo, her face down and hidden behind her straightened hair. It looked lighter and longer. When she spoke, her voice was barely higher than a whisper, yet it was so quiet in the room that I could catch every word. "It'd take you a little while to make yourself look older, too, Stark. But I guess you'd have to try making yourself look younger first."

I laughed. Stark, with very obvious sarcasm, countered with "Very funny. Now, look at us."

Nobody was prepared for what happened when she lifted her head. Everything went deadly silent, quieter than it'd been before. And yes, that was entirely possible. Because the girl – no, she looked more like an adult now – deserved the lack of sound while we took her in.

Her hair hung to the middle of her back. The dress she wore was beautiful. White silk fell to her knees and caressed one arm, the arm that held her cuts. Her grayish eyes were trained on the ceiling, ringed by smoky black that came to points at the outer edges. Her lips pressed together in a ruby red pout. Black heels made her inches taller. Her hand rested on her hip.

Every viewing face registered shock in its rawest form. Widened eyes, slack jaws, and raised eyebrows. My display was completed with a quickening heartbeat and a loss for any sort of words. Stark looked to be in a similar state, as did the rest of the men. Natasha's look was a mixture of astonishment and jealousy. She had every reason to be the latter.

"Well?" Mo snarled, tearing her attention away from the ceiling. Twitchy fingers smoothed out curls that weren't there. "What?" she asked, and those hands went to the end of her dress as she pulled at it self-consciously.

Someone cleared their throat. "What do we think?" Rogers asked.

After several failed attempts at speech, Stark finally gave a small, quavering laugh. "I think I wish I was Chris Garfield."

Mo chewed her bottom lip. "Where's my mask?" she inquired.

Rogers pointed to a table where the final mask laid, the one made specifically for Mo. All of ours were custom made, but I liked hers more than anyone else's. It resembled a cat.

With the mask on, she started to laugh. "Y-you all match!"

It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Stark, Rogers, Banner, Thor, and me. When I did notice, however, it worried me a little. Her behavior did, actually; this wasn't like her, acting hysterical like that.

"It's just from nervous tension." That was Banner's voice. "She'll be fine once we get there."

"I'm fine now!" she exclaimed, ushering us to forget she'd done that. Another little giggle slipped out. She crossed her arms and glared.

"We should get going then, shouldn't we?" Stark strode forward while the rest of us stood there, unsure of what to do. He easily linked an arm through Mo's and dragged her toward the elevator. "Gorgeous, your chariot awaits," he said proudly, shooting me a triumphant glance over his shoulder.

_So, he must suspect something, then,_ I thought angrily. I showed no emotion on my face, but I chewed on the inside of my cheek in frustration.

After all, I'd just lost my date to Stark.

oOoOo

Arms crossed, my eyes narrowed on Stark's leering face. His own mask was shielding his eyes from my view, but I knew they contained silent gloating. That was just how he was.

Rogers gathered us in a circle. Heads bent close together, our voices lowered so as not to be heard by the guests that were flowing in. In that moment, we were ducked behind some stranger's car. "Does everyone remember what they're supposed to be doing?" Rogers murmured. One by one, we all nodded. "Good. Best of luck to you all."

We backed up and moved away from each other, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Natasha began to walk toward the front door, Rogers right behind her. Before she went, she placed a hand on Mo's arm. And then she was gone.

I couldn't see Mo's eyes, either. Even if they hadn't been covered, the sun was setting and light was fading quickly. Some part of me knew that she was a little worried about what was going to happen.

With quiet footsteps, I went to stand behind her. "They'll be fine," I whispered into her ear.

"I know they will," she said back, her voice heavy with relief. Relief at what? I sure as hell didn't know. We hadn't even entered the house and she was talking like it was over.

I shrugged and left her with Stark. Collecting Banner from where he stood nearby, the two of us followed in Natasha and Rogers's footsteps, taking easy strides toward where warm light was shining from an open door.

"Well, this will be fun," Banner laughed. "Do you want to take a bet on how long it'll be before the other guy makes an appearance?"

I chuckled. "No, I'd prefer a bet over whether or not our host makes one. That'd seem fairer to me, anyway." Internally, I was hoping that Chris Garfield wouldn't show up at all. It'd keep Mo and the rest of us safer. But there was no chance of that happening; it was the guy's house, and who could stay away from Mo, especially when she was dressed like that?

My words started a round of inquiries about the mystery man. "Do you think he's ugly?" Banner asked.

"Nah, I bet he looks like a supermodel."

"What kind of supermodel?"

"Underwear model, maybe? Those make the most money, right?"

"How should I know? I wasn't one."

"I bet he got all his money from Daddy."

"Sounds about right. Or he stole it. I could picture that."

"Could be. Married?"

"Let's hope not. Otherwise Mo doesn't stand a chance."

That sobered up our joviality. Mo had to succeed. If not, we had nothing to report to Fury. No way of knowing if our guy was working with the aliens. There's no way anyone else would know; it's not the kind of thing you just tell complete strangers.

"She's going to be all right, Barton." Banner was giving me a stern look as we passed by the guards. "We're going to make sure of it."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know. So what do we do now?"

For a moment there wasn't an answer, besides the obvious one. Ask questions. But how would we go about that? I spied a table standing not far off. Cups were filled to the brim with amber liquid.

Banner saw it, too. "We get beer."

oOoOo

An empty glass in my hand, I leaned against one of the grand staircases, feeling very much discouraged. So far, Banner and I hadn't come up with anything even remotely useful in our hunt for information, and the sight of Mo dancing with Stark made me want to pull my teeth out with pliers.

From where the two of us stood at the side of the room, it was easy enough to spy on everyone there. Not that anything looked suspicious. Thor was chatting with a group of college girls with eyes as big as saucers. Stark was laughing with a group of older gentlemen. Rogers had Mo in his arms now.

"Where do you suppose Garfield is?" I asked, chewing on my thumb and staring intently at Mo's face as she switched over to Thor.

Banner finished the last swallow of his drink. "It is a little odd that he hasn't shown up yet." He looked at me. "What do you want to do?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a group of guys standing around enjoying the free booze. There was about five or six of them, and each was dressed exquisitely. Surely they'd know where the man of the hour was. _No, _I thought. _You can't just walk over and ask. They'd laugh at you. You just need…_

I quickly explained my thoughts to Banner, and off he went. I rested the glass on one of the stairs and turned my back on the crowd. An eager grin spread across my lips, flashing teeth at nobody in particular.

It wasn't long until Banner was back with our cargo. "Here, I brought her. I don't see why you couldn't just get her yourself." Then Banner was gone, melting back into the crowd.

With a broad smile, I spun around any kissed Mo on one of her hands. "May I have this dance?" I requested, fluttering my eyelashes imploringly at her.

She let out a giggle, her blue eyes shining with good humor. "Of course you can. What's with all this?" Her mouth twisted into a smirk as she looked me up and down.

I rested my free hand on her waist and pulled her close against me. I leaned forward until our noses were almost touching, and replied, "Stepping up the show, dear Mo."

Brief shock registered before she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Garfield hasn't made an appearance yet. I was just thinking, and Banner and Thor helped me with it, but you need to look more desirable. Well, more than you already do." I winked. "Just dancing with us won't cut it. You could be any girl dancing with any guy. But instead, you're Mo, dancing with me."

With the sweetest of smiles, she tilted her head. "And what difference should that make?"

"We're not just dancing. We're going to move around, together, and socialize. Get you noticed. You can't stay on the dance floor and expect him to see you." I lifted my arm and spun her in a circle. "So let's go."

To my satisfaction, she didn't let go of my hand as we walked away from the mass of dancing bodies. I escorted her to the men I'd taken notice of earlier. In my best winning voice, I greeted them with, "Hello, nice evening, isn't it?"

Eyes of various colors turned hungry eyes to Mo, travelling and exploring every inch of her body. Suddenly, I was thinking this was a bad, very bad, idea. Trying not to look conspicuous, I moved to the left, shielding her body with most of mine. "Beautiful night, in fact," I continued, my voice hardening.

One of the men sported dark hair that grew so long that it almost covered both of his equally dark eyes. "Who's your friend?" he asked, his voice friendly with undertones of danger.

"This is Jenna," I answered. "My girlfriend."

I knew I'd taken it too far when Mo came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me. She lifted our hands and rubbed them against her cheek. "But we aren't exclusive," she added. Her tone was of absolute seduction, and I kind of wished – no, desperately wished – that I was Chris Garfield, or even this man here, just to be on the receiving end of her words.

The man stalked up to Mo and lifted her chin with one finger. "Is that so?" he asked with a wolfish grin. "Well, Jenna, you're the most gorgeous girl I've seen here all night. Prettier than night itself."

I almost gagged, and from the look on Mo's face, she almost did too. Where did this guy get his pickup lines from? Although, they wouldn't matter much to any dimwitted girl; he had impressive looks, for sure. But it'd take more than that to get Mo to pine after him. Stark was like that to, and she absolutely despised him.

"Am I really?" she asked.

With gentle fingers, I turned her face my way, stepping up my act. This guy wasn't taking Mo from me. "You should know, kitten, I tell you every day."

She wrenched her head away from me and looked back to those dark eyes. With an air of irritation, she snapped, "Jeremy, please, you're smothering me." I raised my eyebrows. Jeremy? Did she just call me Jeremy? "So, you boys must know our host, yes?" she continued.

"Who wants to know?" The guy was looking a little pissed that I'd just diverted Mo's attention from him, if only for a little bit. It made me feel good inside, but he crossed his arms with a glare.

"Why, me, of course. I've been looking for him all night." Her blue eyes clouded with hurt that I sincerely hoped was fake. Otherwise, I'd break his neck.

Without any warning whatsoever, Mo was pulled from my grasp and twirled in a circle. The guy had bent her backward and was holding her way too close. He looked all too comfortable in that position. "Well, Princess, you found me. And now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?"

As they righted themselves, Mo replied easily with "Well, Mr. Garfield, I guess it's up to you."

I kept my jaw from dropping in surprise as I met the thieving gaze of our host.


	8. Chapter 7: Guardian

Chapter Seven: Guardian

I was trying to wrap my mind around what was going on. Mo had found something out about the aliens; that much I was sure of. But what else? How bad was the extent of it? Fury wasn't helping anything. He stood there in silence, staring holes into the girl's face.

It seemed like a lifetime before he replied, evenly, "So you know."

Mo's eyes lit with rage. "You're _damn right_ I know!" she snarled. "Who else knows?"

I caught Natasha's eye. _Did you know?_ I asked her silently. She gave me a slight shake of her head, her eyes hardening.

Meanwhile, Rogers had taken a cautious step forward. "I do," he murmured, his eyes not leaving his feet. Thor and Banner added in their own utterances of intelligence. With every word, my anger rose. So this was what Fury was hiding!

"So what if we know? Does it really matter?" Stark had crossed his arms. Now he was glaring at Mo, waiting for an answer.

Natasha's temper got the better of her. "Of course it matters that _you_ know!"

_May as well join in now,_ I thought. I waved my hand angrily at Natasha, Mo, and myself. "What about _us_?" My hands balled into fists. "Don't we get to be in on this? _What's going on_?"

Fury's glares had no favorites; everybody got one. He paused a few moments, like he was thinking about something, and then turned away. His feet carried him to one of the many computers the room held. He quickly tapped out a few keys. A photo appeared on screen. It was of Mo, and a boy who I recognized as her older brother. They were both smiling and laughing.

I could see the change it made in the present Mo. Her features softened, like someone had beaten all of the temper out of her. Her gaze was nothing but numb. It took only a few moments for her eyes to harden again with the return on her usual fire.

Fury was talking, his tone irritated. "We received this photo approximately three months ago from an unknown source. An explanation was provided with it." With a few more taps of the keys, bold letters spelling out "they're coming for her" popped up.

Instinctively, I reached out and took Mo by the hand. Simultaneously, Natasha draped an arm around the younger girl's shoulders.

Mo was breathing hard. One look at her face told me she was already expecting the message. That didn't mean her mouth wasn't twisted into a snarl, and her glare wasn't strong enough to put Thor in the hospital. "Why do they want me?" I squeezed her hand, but she didn't respond. "I don't understand why I'm so important!" she shouted.

Fury didn't offer any answers. "We haven't figured that much out yet. All we know is that they will stop at nothing to get you."

Well, I could've guessed as much. The alien freaks had already torn apart downtown New York.

"Chris Garfield said that once they have me they'll leave. Why didn't you just let them take me? It could have saved lives. You wouldn't have had to go to so much trouble training me. I could be gone now. Why am I here?" Mo continued.

"Do you know how bad it'd look if we let a young girl get kidnapped by aliens? S.H.I.E.L.D. would be ruined. And we could tell you had potential, anyway. Because of that, you didn't have to stay locked away from the moment you got here." Fury shrugged his shoulders, an "I don't care" expression on his face. "That's got to count for something."

"So I'm really not important in any way? You're just keeping me around because you have to?" Mo almost sounded…hurt. Almost.

"Precisely."

I would have lunged at Fury and beat him into the metallic tile if I didn't have a hold on Mo's hand. Right now she was the only thing keeping me from kicking the living shit out of everyone in that room. How could they do that to her? And then lie about it to Natasha and me, when we were a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. too? Bloodlust pooled in my senses, warring with the control I needed to keep Mo safe from everyone else.

Mo's fury beat me to the punch. "Then why don't you just send me home? Let the aliens take me!" I resisted the urge to hold her as her voice got softer. "I don't want to be here. What's the point of it?" Her words broke my heart.

"Really, Mo, how stupid can you get? I mean, honestly, do you really think we'd let that happen? You're going to stay here, and you're not going to say another word about it!" Stark's name was added to my ass-kicking list.

Surprise, surprise: Fury was agreeing with his stupid pet. "It's not up for negotiation."

Mo ripped her hand out of my grip and shoved Natasha and I aside. The heels of her shoes clicked as she stalked away from all of us, throwing a last response over her shoulder. "Whatever, then! I'll just go back to my cell!"

Fury's accusing words stopped her. "Okay, who told her?"

She whipped around. "Ex_cuse_ me?" she snapped in disbelief. "What exactly are you getting at here?"

Everyone looked embarrassed, including me. I _had_ known that Fury made her room out of one of our prisoner cells. We weren't supposed to tell, as it would only provoke her more. Clearly, she's too smart for the rest of us.

Fury, with absolutely no tact whatsoever, replied easily, "Your room is really a prison cell. It was the safest place to keep you."

Mo looked like she was about to say something, but she just shook her head, disgusted. I felt horrible, even if no one else did. I had to restrain myself from calling her back as she turned on her heel and left the room. We could hear the door to her cell slam.

"Well, that's just great," Stark said as soon as Mo was out of sight. "Now she knows everything."

"And so do we," Natasha hissed from beside me. I nodded, feeling her anger.

Fury ignored us and changed the subject. "So how was the party?"

Rogers shrugged. "It was all right, for a party. Last time I was at one, some guy got his eye removed."

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I blushed. I rubbed the back of my neck. "Uh, I think that was my fault, wasn't it?" At their sheepish nods, I groaned. "Oh, excellent. I really shouldn't leave the house." I gave a shaky laugh.

"It wasn't your fault, it was Loki's," Natasha replied, in as nice a tone as she could manage. It was Thor's turn to look embarrassed.

I cut him off before he could apologize for the behavior of his "brother". I cleared my throat. "So what do we do now?"

Fury raised his eyebrows at me, as if the answer was obvious. "What?" I snapped, fed up with him. He wasn't fazed.

"We get her out of here."

oOoOo

"This is so stupid," Natasha grumbled as we walked together down the hallway. "First he doesn't tell us what's happening, and then he has the _nerve_ to make us fetch her? What the hell?"

I shook my head. "I know. But what can you do? It's not like we're the most important people here."

We stopped outside Mo's door. I knocked. No answer. Natasha knocked. Still no answer. Natasha kicked the door in. The hinges groaned wearily as they swung open. _Well. I guess that works, _I thought with an amused expression.

I sobered up quickly when we stepped inside. Mo was huddled in the center of her bed, facing the wall. In fact, she was so close to the wall that her forehead was pressed against it. I led the way over to her side and took a peek at her face. Leftover streaks from her tears made lines down her cheeks. I stifled a noise of distress and backed away. "You can wake her up." When Natasha gave me a questioning look, I quickly thought of an answer. "You saw what she did to Thor. She's a bear."

I retreated to the door while Natasha shook Mo's shoulder. "Get up," she whispered. Mo waved her hand to shoo her away, but Natasha stopped her by grabbing her wrist. "Seriously. Now. Grab your stuff."

"What the hell?" I grinned involuntarily at the young girl's response.

_Young girl._ I shook myself. _She's just a young girl. What's wrong with you?_

I willed my conscience to shut up and gave Mo a tired smile. "Up and at 'em, Mo."

She propped herself up on her elbow and rubbed an eye. "What's going on? What time is it?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"A little after two in the morning. Get out of bed." Natasha straightened up out of her crouched position.

Mo quickly obeyed, which was smart; Natasha probably would have pulled her up, kicking and screaming, if not. I tried not to watch as she stretched, but couldn't help myself. I suppressed a laugh when I saw her half-flattened hair. She quickly fixed, like she knew I was observing her. Dear God, I hoped she didn't know.

"Why am I up this early? Am I going home?"

Her words were so full of hope that my heart squished in a painful manner. She didn't want to be here anymore? With me and Natasha to watch over her? I could understand not wanting to be around the others after what they did, but us? I would have cried, but I'm not that kind of person.

"No," I answered, the words making her face fall. I would have died to see her smile in that moment. "You're being relocated. Fury decided that now would be the best time to do it." I distracted myself by grabbing her duffel bag and throwing it over my shoulder.

I wouldn't meet her eyes as she pulled her boots on. "Relocated? To where?"

I shrugged; so did Natasha. Fury hadn't told either of us where she was going, just that it wasn't Iowa. For my own sake as well as hers, I prayed it was still in New York.

I stared at the metal flooring as we left and returned to the control room. Something big must have happened while we were elsewhere, because Fury and Stark were nose to nose, Stark spewing profanities while Fury looked as bored as he always did.

Thor was talking to Mo, but I was trying to figure out what had occurred in our absence. It couldn't have been good. Well, not that Stark really needing a reason to shout and be superior. Still.

"Mo." Fury had decided to notice our appearance. "Hope you're ready to go. You'll be staying with Stark for the remainder of the time you're with us."

I could've punched Stark for the way he stared at her. His glare was so intense that I could practically feel the heat emanating from it.

"What?" she questioned. "Why him?"

"Sir, wouldn't it be easier to have Mo stay with me?" Natasha cut in. I could have kissed her for her suggestion, but that would've been weird.

"Hush," Fury snapped, silencing the redhead. "It isn't necessary for Mo to stay here, and Stark needs a babysitter anyway."

I smirked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mo break into a sly grin. That was an interesting point to add. Pepper was out of town, so I suppose he _did_ need someone to watch over him. You know, make sure he doesn't fall out of a window in a drunken stupor. But the look on Mo's face told me she wouldn't be pulling him back inside.

Excellent.

"I don't accept this," Stark countered, crossing his arms.

Mo rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, sweetheart. It won't be so bad."

_Sweetheart?_ I could see the word playing around in Stark's mind. He was just as baffled by it as I was. The only difference; it made me jealous, and it only made him question her motives.

Stark cleared his throat and went to Mo's side. He slipped his arm through hers and tugged her in the direction of the door. "Well, as long as you keep calling me that, maybe it won't." My mouth fell open in outrage. "Come on. Time's a wastin'!"

As they made their way to the door, Mo turned and threw a pleading glance over her shoulder. Relieved that she wasn't enjoying herself, I smiled reassuringly. I picked up her bag and walked just a few steps behind the two of them.

The silence that followed was unnerving. My mind went through a list of things I could say, but none of them seemed good enough.

"Why are we leaving this early?" Mo finally broke out of the awkwardness.

"We're hoping that Garfield is asleep right now. There's less chance of them coming after you if we move you at two twenty-six in the morning," Stark replied.

"But he doesn't know it's me, does he?"

_Good God, I hope not._

"The way you ran out of there, he might be suspecting something by now. In any case, it's better to be safe than sorry." Stark started to move at a faster pace. I had to jog to keep up. "Now stop the questions and hurry up."

Mo stopped resisting the hold that Stark had on her, and eventually he let go. It was uncomfortable running with her bag, but I didn't really care. I wouldn't leave her alone with Stark until I absolutely had to. And even then, I'd always be ready to save her if she needed me. I wouldn't abandon her. I wouldn't let Garfield have her. She would always, always be safe.

The sky was black as we reached the flight deck. A jet waited nearby. Stark kept on going ahead, but I found myself about to crash into Mo's back. She'd stopped.

"Mo?" I ducked in closer to better see her face. Her eyes were out of focus. I bit my lip. My hands found their way to her shoulders. I shook her slightly, not wanting to hurt her. "Mo, are you all right?"

She jerked in my grip and blinked a couple times, shaking her head. She gave a false laugh. "No."

Impulsively, I pulled her against my chest. My arms hung loosely around her waist, but her hands were clutching my shirt. She shook, just a little. "Don't worry. It'll all be okay. We'll stop them before any harm comes to you. I promise." I sincerely hoped that my words sounded convincing to her. She was the kind of person to see through any faltering.

I stepped back and let her go. "And if you have any problems with Stark, just let me know. I've got plenty of arrows to spare." I grinned.

Mo's face paled. I stared at her, confused. It was just a joke, didn't she get it? I was really going to shoot Stark!

She visibly relaxed when said man came up behind her and wrapped a protective arm around her waist. "We'll see you guys later." He nodded once to me before escorting Mo away to the jet.

I bit back every hurtful, jealous, angry word that I could have shouted at Stark's retreating back. It was a good thing my bow was inside, or else I would have made my joke a reality. Who did he think he was, coming in here all Superman-like, rescuing Mo from an obvious bad thought? He wasn't her knight in shining armor. It was supposed to be me.

oOoOo

I awoke later that morning to sunshine streaming through the curtains of my bedroom. I rubbed one eye with my fist and slipped out from under my covers, stifling a yawn.

A quick look in my bathroom mirror showed dark bags under my eyes. I couldn't recall what time I eventually fell asleep after leaving Mo with Stark, but it was hours afterward. Now it was noon, and my stomach was growling.

Any hope of obtaining food was squashed when my phone rang. _That's probably Fury,_ I thought grimly as I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Get to the helicarrier. I have a job for you." Yeah, it was Fury all right. And he hung up before I could say anything back. Typical.

oOoOo

"How can I help, your majesty?" I asked sarcastically as I stepped into the control room.

Fury turned around and fixed me with a glare from his one eye. I smirked. No matter how angry he got with me, it couldn't possibly match how pissed I was that he withheld the truth about Mo. "Glad to see you actually came" was all that the director said back.

I leaned against a table. "Yeah, I came. Now, what do you want?" He handed me a cell phone. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

"Take it to Mo." At my questioning look, he continued. "It's more inconspicuous if she answers the phone in public instead of her earpiece." He took that time to eye me judgmentally. "And you could use an excuse to go see her."

I waited until I left the room before I let my jaw drop. He knew. How could he _possibly_ know? I knew Stark might have suspected something, but Fury? He knows more than he lets on, apparently. That little discovery made me question whether or not Mo knew. Oh God, if she did, I'd die.

oOoOo

The elevator door dinged as it slid open on the top floor of Stark Tower. The sharp, foul stench of stale alcohol hit me full force as I stepped into the room. I held my nose and stalked to the bar. "Jesus Christ, Stark, what died?"

"My freedom."

I had no idea where he was talking from. I couldn't see him anywhere. He wasn't on the couch, and he wasn't seated on a barstool. I leaned across the counter. No, he was lying on the floor, clutching a bottle to his chest like it was flowers on his deathbed. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mo. She has invaded my life. I don't like it." I rolled my eyes at his explanation, angering the drunken man. He sat up quickly but had to lie back down. His eyes were closed, warding off what I'm sure was a headache. "Do you know what she said to me?" he demanded.

I could only imagine. "No, what?"

"She told me I need to go see AA!" His tone of voice was outraged.

I tried not to laugh and instead kept my face serious when I replied, "Well, you do."

His eyes snapped open. "Clint, buddy, I thought we were friends! And you're taking her side?"

"You're drunk, Stark."

He rolled around on the floor, trying to get into a sitting position. Getting that part right, he grabbed the edge of the counter and stood. He shakily pointed a finger at me. "Dude! What happened to 'bros before hoes'?"

I couldn't help myself; I slapped him.

The look on his face was of complete shock, but I wasn't done. I grabbed the front of his shirt and pressed my nose against his. "Don't you _ever_ talk about her like that!" I snarled. "I'm having a hard enough time letting her stay here with you, but I'll respect that decision. But if I hear you say _anything_ like that about her again, I will personally take a hammer to every bottle of liquor in this tower, and bribe shopkeepers against selling you more!"

Stark's face was pale, to my satisfaction. "Clint – "

"Where is she?" I hissed, quieter, deadlier.

"She left."

I shook him. "Where did she go?"

"I don't know!"

I shoved Stark away from me and let him hit the floor with a thud. I was too repulsed by him to say anything more. My nails dug into my palms as I went back to the elevator.

As the doors slid closed, I heard Stark shout, "Tell your little girlfriend I said hello!"


	9. Chapter 8: Perfect

Chapter Eight: Perfect

"Damn Stark," I muttered as I stalked out of his tower. My mind was trying to wrap around the fact that he knew I liked Mo, but yet he still thought it was okay to call her a hoe to my face. The only good thing I could draw out of that little encounter was that I beat the shit out of him. Well, not really, but I scared him, at least.

I shook my head and strolled off down the sidewalk. "He deserves every damn thing coming for him."

The temperature was dropping outside. I pulled my jacket in closer around myself and bent my head down against the wind. The phone I had to take to Mo weighed heavily in my pocket, despite it being light. When I looked back up again, my eyes were drawn to figure with dark curls.

I grinned as the snowflakes started to fall. It had to be her; she was wearing her Animo outfit, even though it was freezing.

With a small laugh, I jogged a little to catch up her. I walked right next to her, watching her out of the corner of my eye. Her gaze was trained on her feet, her face turning pink from the wind and the cold. She didn't know I was there.

I spied a coffee shop not far off. When we reached it, I grabbed her elbow and pulled her inside. She jumped in surprise. "Cold enough for you?" I chuckled when she realized it was me.

Her eyelashes were coated in tiny white snowflakes. I gnawed on the corner of my lip as she blinked them away. Then she grinned, and I brought my attention back to what she was saying. "Nah, it's actually pretty warm outside!"

"Then why is your nose all red? Hm?" I asked, poking the tip of her nose. My stomach took that moment to rumble. "Are you hungry at all? I just woke up about an hour or two ago. I haven't eaten yet."

"Starving," she answered, sighing thankfully.

"Excellent."

My hand found its way to her back as I guided her to a table by one of the big windows. We sat for a minute or two before our waitress came over. She asked for our orders, trying to catch my eye, but I ignored her and instead watched Mo ask for hot chocolate and a chocolate muffin. I did the same, but with chocolate chip instead. The waitress, obviously miffed by my lack of attention, left in a hurry, leaving Mo and I to discuss…anything.

I told her all about my life before S.H.I.E.L.D., like how I came from Iowa as well, and had a brother that I hadn't seen in several years. "But that's okay. I've found friends and a job to keep me occupied." And then I winked at her, for some reason.

She listened intently, never taking her eyes away from mine. I tried not to read too far into that.

In exchange for that information, I questioned her about her own life. I learned about her friends, Grace and Jenna (which made me blush because that's what I called her at the party), and about her parents and her brother, Adam. She was telling me about all the plays she'd been in when I stopped her.

"So you were really one of four freshmen to get cast into the play?" I asked, even though I pretty much knew the answer. I'd seen the play, after all, from all the videos Fury had showed us. But she didn't need to know that. She hated Fury enough as it was.

"Don't sound so surprised," she replied with a roll of her eyes. Then she laughed and smiled at me. "But, yeah, I was. Impressed?" She winked, like I'd done.

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "Oh, definitely."

Our food came then, carried by a guy this time. He smiled at Mo as he sat her muffin and drink down, but I don't think she realized it. She was too busy watching the snow falling outside. I thanked the guy for both of us and took a sip of the hot chocolate, following Mo's movements with my eyes.

She was pulling bits off her muffin with a small smile that split into a wide grin once she ate them. My heart about stopped when she lifted the mug to her lips. Looking at her eyes through the steam was messing with my head. Her rosy cheeks and nose were begging to be kissed. I couldn't even blink, I was too afraid of missing something.

Suddenly, Mo's eyes flicked from the beverage to catch me staring. I didn't look away, despite my embarrassment. She set the mug down and gave me a nervous glance. "What?"

I found the strength to blink. My head tilted a little to the right before I shook it slowly. "Nothing," I answered, not knowing what else to say. How could I tell her that I was admiring her without sounding like a creep? I couldn't. "Nothing at all."

She shrugged and placed her finger in her hot chocolate, making little circles in the brown depths. "So what are you doing out in the city?"

I cleared my throat awkwardly when I realized I'd forgotten I was on a mission for Fury. "Actually, I was looking for you. But we don't have to talk about that right now." I wasn't ready to deviate from the pleasant moment we were sitting in.

She seemed to perk up a bit, to my satisfaction. Was she pleased I ventured into the blizzard for her? "No, it's okay. What for?"

"I went to Stark Tower, but Tony said you'd left," I started carefully, watching her face harden into controlled anger. I grinned in an attempt to reassure her. "I know what happened. Don't worry, though. I kicked the shit out of Stark for you."

She averted her gaze from mine and stared at the table, her cheeks growing darker. _Blushing? Mo's blushing?_ I thought. I smiled to myself. _And she looks so adorable doing it._

"Anyway, Fury asked me to bring you this," I continued, drawing her attention back to me. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket.

Cautiously, she took it from me. She turned it over and over in her hands, inspecting every inch. Slowly, her face began to twist into an emotion I couldn't place. Anger? Confusion? Disgust? It fit somewhere between those. "What the hell does he want?" she snapped, glaring at me.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. What was she mad at _me_ for? "No, Mo, it's not like that."

"It's not an apology present, is it?"

"No, no!" I replied quickly. "In case any of us need to get in contact with you, we can call you on this. It's a lot more inconspicuous than talking through your earpiece, you know?" My mind drifted back to her words. She thought the phone was an apology present? She deserved something a lot better than that for what Fury did. "It'd be a pretty pathetic apology present, wouldn't it?"

To my relief, she smirked. "Yeah, just a bit. But, thank you for bringing it to me." Excitement made her blue eyes sparkle. "Can I call home?"

I squirmed in my seat. "No." God, I hated the way I made her expression sadden. "Fury set certain restrictions on it. You can only call Fury, me, Natasha, Rogers, Banner, Stark, Thor, or any S.H.I.E.L.D. base."

"Thor can use a phone?"

I laughed, shaking my head, and felt the air around us lose the crackling intensity it'd held before. Now we were sitting in an easy, carefree atmosphere. "Yes, Mo. It was more difficult getting Rogers to get the hang of it than it was Thor."

Her lips parted into a grin. "Now, that doesn't surprise me much."

Still chuckling, I surveyed our table. We'd finished everything, so I dug some cash out of my jeans pocket and tossed it onto the table. I offered Mo my arm as I stood. "Are you ready to go?"

She slipped her arm easily through mine. "Yup. Thanks for…whatever meal that was."

I smiled, and tried not to sound too hopeful as I replied, "Sure. We'll have to do it again sometime."

We exited the coffee shop and walked out into the mass of white. The temperature had dropped by quite a bit, and I could feel the cold seeping into my shoes, freezing my toes. I was turning into an ice cube, but that was nothing compared to how bad Mo had it. She pressed closer to me, shivering violently.

I removed my jacket and draped one side around her shoulders, using the other half to partially cover my own back. "What's wrong with you? Do you not watch the weather?" I teased.

The look she gave me was murderous. "I kind of left the Tower in a hurry, remember?"

I nodded. Dear Lord, how could I forget? I didn't blame her for leaving. Stark was a stupid, drunk pig who didn't have a sensitive bone in his body. "Ah, yes. Yes, I do remember. I think we're almost there, actually." Then I turned to her with a smile. "Freezing time is about over."

Mo let out a loud cheer, even adding in a little fist pump, making me laugh hard enough that I had to slow down our pace so I wouldn't fall over. I bumped her with my shoulder, a little rougher than I'd intended, and she stumbled. "You're such a jerk, Barton," she growled good-naturedly. A giggle slipped past her lips.

"I have a question for you," I said, ignoring her.

"Do you?"

Oh, why am I even asking? This is stupid, Clint, stop now. "Why did you call me Jeremey? Back at the party, I mean." Well, shit; too late.

I looked up to see the overhang of Stark Tower looming above us. Good thing, too, because Mo had removed herself from my grasp and fallen to the cement. "That?" she laughed, holding her stomach from the giggles. "That's your question? Why I called you what I did?" I nodded, confused by her laughter. "You called me Jenna, for God's sake! That's my best friend's name!"

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot impatiently against the pavement, hoping I looked threatening. "You didn't answer my question."

She shrugged her shoulders. "You just look like a Jeremy. Sorry if that offends you."

I pulled her to her feet, and, in a flamboyant voice, replied, "Offend _me_? Oh, heavens no! You could _never_ offend me, Mo."

"You're so dramatic!" She smiled and swatted my arm. Then, without any warning whatsoever, she threw her arms around me. I hugged her back after only a brief second of hesitation, thinking about how wonderful it felt to be in her arms.

Her breath tickled my ear as she whispered, "See you later, Barton." Then she let me go and backed up.

In a feminine voice that honestly surprised even me, I answered, "Bye, girl." I winked flirtatiously and stuck my tongue out at her. "Good luck with Stark!"

"Have fun freezing your ass off!" she shot back. Then she opened the door and disappeared.

I watched her go, contradicting emotions swirling in my stomach. I both loved and hated her for making me feel like this. She made me feel like the luckiest man in the world every time she spoke to me, but she dragged me down with jealousy whenever she talked to someone else. I was in so deep, caught in her trap.

And she didn't even know it.

oOoOo

I flopped heavily onto my couch, shaking snowflakes out of my short hair. The heat of my apartment was welcoming and soothing, and I found myself drifting off.

"Agent Barton, report."

I pressed my finger to my earpiece and groaned. "Dammit, Fury, what do you want now?"

He ignored my rude greeting. "Did you get the phone to Mo?"

"Yes."

"And?"

I rolled over onto my side, resting my head on my arm with an amused smirk. "And she's not very happy with your apology present. You might want to invest in something more impressive."

"It wasn't an apology present!" Fury exploded. "And I've had enough of your smart ass remarks, Barton."

"Get used to it, 'cause they're not going anywhere," I answered, rather lazily. In all honesty, my comments surprised even me sometimes. I never used to talk like that to Fury. I'd always been his favorite, according to the rest of the team. I stifled a laugh; I was probably far away from that title now.

Fury's tone was controlled when he spoke again. "Has she agreed to use the phone, Barton?"

I shrugged to myself. "Yeah, I think so. But she's pretty pissed that you won't let her call her parents."

"You know I could never allow that. The aliens – "

"Yeah, yeah, the aliens could trace the call back to her family and use them to get to her. But, Fury." I paused, coming to a realization. "The picture that was sent to you had her and her brother in it. If they've seen that, then they should already know where Mo's family is. If they were going to attack them, wouldn't they have done it already?"

Fury sounded bored. "They could just be waiting for the right moment. I'm only taking extra measures to ensure it won't happen."

There was a pause. Then Fury's outraged voice, louder than it'd been before, shouted, "Stark! For the love of God! What the _hell_ does he think he's doing?"

I sat up quickly. "What's going on?" I asked calmly. Inside, I was on red alert, waiting to hear Fury say he'd done something to Mo. No doubt the director was observing him from one of the cameras he had trained everywhere around the city. A distant part of me hoped it was something bad. I was up for another round of kicking Stark's ass. Fury only had to say the words…

"He just pushed Mo off Stark Tower."

Ah, there it was. "_What?_" I screeched into the earpiece, flying to my feet. My hands immediately shoved at the end of the couch, sending it far enough to the side to wedge my bow out from underneath.

"I said he pushed her off Stark Tower."

"I heard what you said," I growled. "What did he do it for?"

Did I hear amusement in his tone? "I don't know yet. Maybe as a joke? He's laughing."

I slung my quiver over my shoulder and slipped into my boots. I was gripping my bow so hard my knuckles were white. "I'm gonna kill him. He's so dead."

I said the words to myself, but apparently Fury heard. "Barton, stay where you are. It's all under control." I ignored him and went to the front door. "Barton, if you don't stay in that apartment, I'm sending Banner after you."

With a noise of frustration, I swung my leg out and kicked the door frame, not even flinching when it connected with my toe. "I can't just _sit here_ while she's out there, falling a thousand feet! And it's _snowing_!"

"I told you, it's under control."

"How?"

Fury laughed, but it was cold. "Stark's got her now. They've gone back inside. I suggest you refrain from going over there for a few days. We might need Stark intact one of these days."

And then Fury's voice was gone from my ear, and I was alone, clenching and unclenching my fists, dropping my bow to the floor. What did Stark think he was playing at? He can't just push Mo off the tower!

I slipped out of my shirt as I walked to the bathroom. I needed a shower.

oOoOo

A week later, I hadn't seen or heard from either Mo or Stark, although Natasha would come calling every now and again, assuring me that both of them were still alive. I had half a mind to burst in there, just to make sure, but those thoughts were pushed aside when a note slipped under my door.

_Hey! _it read. _It's almost Christmas, so I talked Stark into letting me throw a party at the tower! Come over on Christmas Eve, sometime around six, okay? See you there! Love, Mo._

I grinned, and thought smugly, _Perfect._


	10. Chapter 9: The Winner

Chapter Nine: The Winner

It was almost six by the time I reached Stark Tower on Christmas Eve. I was slightly worried about being late, but felt better when I saw Natasha just ahead of me, talking with Rogers. Not long after, Thor walked over to us.

"Looks like we all have the same sense of time." That was Banner, who was standing just behind me.

I laughed. "Yeah, apparently."

Rogers cleared his throat and motioned to the glass door. "Shall we?" At our consenting nods, he held it open as the rest of us shuffled past.

It was a short little walk to the elevator, and somehow we all managed to squish in together. Banner tapped the button for the top floor, the doors slid closed, and then there was nothing left to do but wait.

"Does anyone else find it odd that Stark is allowing this?" Natasha asked, leaning against the wall.

I shrugged. "Somehow Mo got him talked into it. I don't know how, but she did." I smiled a little to myself. That was quite the successful venture, talking Stark into throwing a party. Was it weird of me to be proud? Yeah, probably.

Meanwhile, as I was having my conflicting thoughts, Rogers was answering Natasha's question. "I have an idea, but…" He trailed off, and I swear I saw his eyes flicker to my face and dart just as quickly away. "It's probably wrong. Never mind." He waved his hand in a "forget about it" way, and the subject was dropped.

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. As we reached our destination, we heard shouting from the other side of the doors. It sounded like Mo's voice.

And there she was, sitting on Stark's stomach and hitting him repeatedly. Stark was just looking at her like she was crazy, but he wasn't doing anything to stop it. One hand was closed around…something. Very suspicious.

The two of them hadn't noticed us yet, but no one was really sure what to do. Rogers finally took it upon himself to approach them, albeit cautiously. "Mo? What are you doing?" he asked, bending over so she could see him.

Mo looked up, her cheeks bright pink. "Oh, hey, Rogers." Stark gave a halfhearted wave.

Then he shoved her over so he could stand, taking her hand in his and tugging her to her feet. My fists clenched and unclenched. Something was up with him. He was being too nice.

I saw Mo elbow him, but couldn't catch what she whispered shortly after. I finally noticed that his gaze was trained on my face, a wild grin parting his lips. With a short, wicked laugh, he swung his hand around to hit her forehead. Before I could say or do anything, he'd pushed her into my arms. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Merry Christmas everyone!"

I swear to God he'd already started drinking before we came.

Mo stepped back, her face redder than it'd been before. I was sure I was blushing, too, but managed to say, in a lighthearted manner, "A present? For me?" When she looked up, surprised, I winked. "But I didn't buy you anything!"

Her brows were knit in confusion. "Present? What present?" I laughed, as did everyone else. Apparently, that irritated her, because she crossed her arms and glared. "What?" she demanded.

With another low chuckle, I plucked the little blue bow off her head, holding it out to her. "I believe Stark made you into a Christmas present, Mo." I felt my cheeks heat up when I realized that was pretty much a display of how much I really liked her.

Mo's face bore close resemblance to a cherry. She averted her gaze from my eyes and instead stared at the floor, rubbing the back of her neck.

I was about ready to apologize for whatever it was that I said, but never got the chance because suddenly, she snatched the bow from my hand and stuck it to her forehead again. She threw her arms out, like she was waiting for a hug, and sang out, "Merry Christmas!"

Laughter rang around the large space as we all mimicked her. Stark was watching me with a thoughtful glint in his eye. I shouldn't have to explain why that deeply worried me.

When the noise had died down, Mo spoke once more. "Well, we've got drinks and food." She laughed lightly. "And that's pretty much it."

Natasha grinned, and answered for the lot of us. "That's all we need."

So, now I had food, booze, and Mo's company. Yes, that really _was_ all I needed.

oOoOo

My glass of alcohol was bordering on empty as I spoke with Banner. His was looking very much the same. I'd go refresh them in a minute. We both were in dire need of it, to give us something to do besides listen to Stark's horrid singing.

"I think my ears are bleeding," I muttered to Banner, nodding toward the dancing billionaire. Well, if you could call it dancing. He was more awkwardly waltzing with his vodka bottle as a partner.

Banner chuckled. "So are mine. Someone really needs to make him stop."

I certainly wasn't going to do it. I cleared my throat, having a sudden stroke of brilliance. "You know, Banner, you could always – "

"No."

So much for that idea. I guess the Hulk would have to remain dormant for the time being.

My eyes sought out Mo for the millionth time that evening, finding her in the same place she'd been for most of the night: sitting next to Thor, who was sipping on a glass of his own beverage. Meanwhile, Stark was growing ever louder in his serenade.

"Shut up, Stark!" Rogers ordered, strolling casually into the room to rejoin the rest of us. The alcohol in his hand looked similar to the kind Banner and I were drinking.

Stark stopped his wailing. "Okay, who gave Captain Tight-Ass the booze?" The look on his face displayed astonishment and a bit of utter offense at Rogers's words.

"Nobody. I helped myself." Rogers was now heading toward Banner and I, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was watching Mo again, as she and Thor dove back into their quiet conversation. Every now and again Thor would laugh, and Mo would look pleased with herself. I wanted so badly to join them. But that'd just be weird. Right?

Someone was waving their hand in front of my face. "Barton. Are you even listening to me? I figured this would interest you the most."

It was Stark, looking at me with a smug smile on his face. I shook my head, coming back into the conversation. "Sorry, no. What'd you say?"

"You like Mo, right?" he asked, his brown eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

My cheeks grew hot, looking anywhere but at the three eager faces watching me. "Who wants to know?" I answered quickly, watching my drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I couldn't even bring myself to look at the girl in question as I took a shaky sip.

Stark was smiling at my obvious discomfort. "Me. And maybe her, too. That's what we're going to find out, if she actually likes you or not." He grinned wider, his gaze raking over both my face and the faces of Rogers and Banner. "Or if she likes any of the rest of us."

I choked on my drink. Banner beat me on the back, freeing me of my "near-death experience". I coughed, and managed to splutter out, "Excuse me? What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Let's just hold a little contest to see who can get farthest with Mo without getting hit…or verbally abused. Shall we?" That grin was poisonous.

I chanced a quick glance in Mo's direction to find that she was watching us with a worried look on her face. She whispered something hurriedly to Thor, who nodded and got to his feet, taking long strides over to us.

He crossed his arms, still holding his drink in his hand. "Might I ask what is going on over here?"

Stark clapped him on the shoulder. "Thor, buddy, how would you like to be the judge of a special contest?"

At Thor's inquisitive, if not completely untrusting, look, Stark quickly explained his "brilliant" idea. Slowly but surely, Thor came around. I'd be lying if I said I was disappointed. Actually, I was quite surprised he'd agreed to be judge. I knew he'd always been sort of fond of Mo. Not like I was, but still.

"So does everyone understand what we're trying to accomplish here? Are we all in?" Stark asked after several minutes of explanation. I nodded, as did Thor and Rogers. Banner wasn't being cooperative.

He was shaking his head. "No, I don't think I'll be participating in this."

Stark stuck his lip out in a pout but didn't protest. I was a little shocked that Rogers was doing this with us. I didn't think he had any interest in Mo, but all the alcohol he'd consumed had probably talked him into it. Stark, on the other hand, either really wanted to piss me off (which was likely) or he actually liked Mo more than he let on. I couldn't find another explanation for him agreeing to throw this party.

Thor headed back to Mo shortly after. I watched him go, wondering if he was going to spill the secret. I prayed that he wouldn't, because a little part of me wanted to do this. Okay, maybe a big part.

The mastermind behind this whole operation cleared his throat. "So, who's first?"

"You," Rogers, Banner, and I chorused together. Stark sighed, cracked his knuckles, and waltzed over to Mo. Well, more like stumbled. The guy was _way_ hammered.

"So, Mo, what kind of classes do you take in school?" I heard him say, the words coming out in a slurred mess. Mo looked at him like he'd grown another head. This was very promising.

She shied away from the hand he'd placed on her arm and answered, "Geography, American lit, chemistry – "

"Chemistry?" Stark cut in, his eyes lighting up. Mo must have sensed her mistake, because her blue eyes widened. "Are you any good at Chemistry?"

"Yeah, I guess so," she sighed dramatically.

Stark was nodding vigorously, the grin on his face a little too eager. "I'm sure. I'm _great_ with chemistry."

I rolled my eyes. Chemistry? Really? That's all he had? The guy had girls practically throwing themselves at his feet because of all his money and his style, but he couldn't come up with something better than _that_?

Mo shot a pleading look at Thor, who shrugged, and then looked back to Stark with narrowed, disgusted eyes. "Stark, are you _really_ playing the chemistry angle? Because that's kind of pathetic."

Ah, that's my girl.

Stark sighed heavily, leaning back against the bar counter and closing his eyes. "You drive me crazy."

"Yeah, well, you drive me crazy, too," Mo snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Her words clearly triggered another attack in Stark's delusional, twisted mind, because he shot forward and eyed Mo with a worrying excitement. "Is that so?" He was now so close to her face that she was scrunching her nose up against the scent of his breath, and almost bending over backward to get away.

Mo turned to fix him with a steely gaze that froze him where he sat. "I'm sure Pepper would _love_ to hear about this, don't you think?" Her voice dripped with venom and an air of triumph.

I had to hold back a laugh as Stark, finally defeated, slunk back over to our little group. _Oh, shit,_ I thought with a smile. _She just pulled the Pepper card!_

We patted Stark on the back and told him that he did a good job, even though he'd struck out. That thought seemed to cheer him up a little bit. The cocky smile was back on his face and he gripped my shoulder. "You think you can do better, do you?" he asked, smirking. He turned me around and pushed me roughly toward Mo. "Well, then. You're up."

I gnawed on the inside of my lip as I forced my feet to walk forward. It was too late to back out now. I didn't even know what to do, but I couldn't run away now. Stark would never let me hear the end of it. Hopefully I exuded confidence on the outside, because I was full on panicking inside.

_Oh, no,_ I thought helplessly, just as Mo said the same thing. I was so close now I could almost reach out and touch her. And still I didn't know what to do.

_Man up, will you? _I found myself thinking in frustration. _You've waited so long for a moment like this, and now you're chickening out? What the hell is wrong with you?_

I was right, of course. I _had_ been waiting for this. Maybe not as long as my overly dramatic head had said, but long enough. So when Mo said my name, I did the first thing that came to mind.

I kissed her.

My hands placed themselves against her jaw, hard enough that she couldn't move away. I heard her breath in sharply. I'd caught her by surprise. Regardless, her eyes had closed almost immediately, to my utter satisfaction. I smiled against her lips, which were softer than they looked. I could feel her straining to pull away, which disappointed me a bit, but I didn't let go for a few more heartbeats.

When I finally did, her eyes slowly opened, looking brighter and bluer than I'd remembered them being. A pretty pinkish color spread just as slow across her cheeks. "Barton – " she breathed, but I cut her off with another, softer, kiss.

"No talking," I whispered back, my voice sounding huskier than I'd intended.

She'd stopped struggling in my grasp, and instead was just watching me silently. I was sure I was blushing now, because the awkwardness of the situation had just hit me full force.

Thankfully, Rogers broke it. "How the hell and I supposed to top _that_?"

"You can't! Barton wins!" Thor replied, sounding much happier than I would have expected, which led me to believe that either he was voting for me the whole time, or the alcohol had finally sunk in. The second option was least likely, but probably the truth.

Meanwhile, Mo had successfully pulled away from my grip, her eyes lit in anger. "Ex_cuse_ me?" she snapped, throwing a glare at everyone. "What do you mean 'wins'? Was this some stupid _contest_?"

The happiness of actually _kissing_ Mo, and then winning the contest on top of that, quickly faded. My head wasn't buzzing from alcohol consumption. Now, the only thing I felt was the angry heat waves rolling off Mo's body. "Mo – " I started to apologize, but one murderous glare from her was enough to silence me.

"Were you in on this?" she asked, turning to attention to Thor, who looked a little terrified of the smaller girl.

Thor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, in a way I was." Mo bared her teeth at him in an almost animal-like way, and he rushed out, "They requested that I be their judge."

She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back against the counter, glowering at the floor. One of her dark curls fell into her face, and she hastily brushed it back. I would have done it for her, but that would probably have resulted in my getting my hand bit off. "You know that was all _way_ illegal, right?" she finally said, looking up to glare at all of us again.

Stark nudged me aside and took his place next to Mo, gently massaging her shoulder with one hand. I hissed at him, but he ignored me. "What are you going to do about it? Alert the authorities?" he asked her with a smirk.

"Maybe," she shot back.

"Sweetie," he breathed into her ear. She wrinkled her nose again and tried to move away. "We _are_ the authorities."

I tensed, ready to punch him or shove him away from Mo, but Thor had it covered. Both of his hands grabbed at the front of Stark's shirt and lifted him up into the air. The look of shock on Stark's face was quite funny, but I didn't laugh; Thor had his scary demeanor back. "That's enough," he snapped, shaking the billionaire enough that he resembled a bobble head toy. "I already deemed Barton the winner."

"Who says I was doing this for the competition?" Stark replied, shooting me an awful smirk.

Mo stepped up, clenching her fists. "You'd better be saying it for the competition if I decide to tell Pepper," she hissed, her voice low.

Stark countered, "You have no proof any of this even happened."

_Except for the fact that all of us saw it and could vouch for her,_ I thought. _Although, I'd probably get into trouble as well. More, in fact, because I kissed her…_ _Okay, Barton, you should probably stop thinking now._

When I returned from the confusing world of my mind, the first thing I saw was Mo stalking off to her room. The second thing was Thor putting Stark back on his feet. The third…well, there wasn't a third.

"Retreating, are you?" Stark snarled. "Couldn't think of anything else to threaten me with? Figures."

Thor thumped Stark on the back of the head, but I don't think Mo caught it because she was already opening her door. She turned back as she stepped inside, gripped the door with white knuckles, and fixed her eyes on Stark's leering face. I swear her blue eyes had turned red from hate. "Merry Christmas, you bastard!" she shouted, slamming the door shut. The sound echoed for a few seconds in the large room, and then there was silence.

Nobody knew what to do. We all just stood there staring at each other. Thor finally decided to speak up. "We have a problem."

"What? Besides Mo throwing a tantrum for no reason and locking herself in her room? Oh, do explain," Stark snarled sarcastically. My hand itched to punch him, but I didn't.

"Has anyone seen Natasha?"

I paled. Oh God. We forgot about Natasha. I hadn't seen her for hours, as she wasn't in the living room with us. Where could she possibly have run off to? Rogers and Banner had the same terrified look on their faces as I did. She would _kill_ us for forgetting her!

Stark snorted. "Oh, please. She's not lost." He strolled toward the door leading outside. "I know exactly where she is." He tossed a glance over his shoulder. "You might want to grab some blankets, though."

Everyone exchanged glances. Had she really managed to lock herself outside, or did Stark do it? Now, what was the obvious answer here?

Right on cue, Stark opened the door and let a frozen redhead inside. Natasha's lips were blue, and there was snow in her hair. She was visibly shaking, her arms wrapped around herself. As cold as she was, she could still shoot Stark a vengeful glare.

I quickly grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and threw it around her shoulders. She nodded gratefully at me and allowed me to lead her to a chair, where Rogers laid another blanket on her.

When her lips had turned back to their usual pink, she spoke. "You locked me outside! What the _hell_?" Or shouted, rather. Her eyes were fixed on Stark, who didn't look sorry in the slightest.

He shrugged and glanced around at all of us. "You know we couldn't have done it with Natasha around. She wouldn't have let us."

"Do what? Where's Mo?" Natasha asked, looking over her shoulder to see if the girl was hiding behind her. Realization dawned on her. "Oh my God. Stark, what did you _do_?"

He waved a hand at her. "She's fine; she's just in her room. You're looking a little chilly, Natasha. You might want to warm up a bit before you go all Sherlock Holmes on our asses."

"I look _a little chilly_? You locked me out there for three hours, you bastard! What the hell could you have done that took that long?"

Stark's mouth split into a grin. "Nothing. It only lasted a half hour or so. The extra time was to make sure you couldn't hit me once you got back in here."

Natasha reached out and slapped him, knocking his head to the side. Stark actually fell off the arm of the chair while the rest of us laughed. He rubbed a hand against the red mark on his cheek and sent a glare Natasha's way. "Looks like that little plan didn't work," she said with a harsh smile. "Now what about your other plan? What exactly did you do to Mo?"

Nobody had the courage to answer. We'd be skinned alive if she knew. Her eyes widened a little, and she looked my way. I avoided her eyes, and instead stared at the falling snow outside the window. Eventually, Natasha stood. "I'm going to go talk to her."

Banner placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. He spoke for the first time in a while. "No, don't do that. Just let her blow off some steam for a bit. She needs some time alone." He gave a half smile. "Okay?"

As it was Banner who'd said it, and not Stark, she was much more willing to obey. She had more respect for the doctor than she'd ever have for Stark, and rightly so.

I crossed my arms and looked toward Mo's closed door, overcome by a sudden thought: Stark deserved more respect than I did. Even though it was his idea to hold the contest, he'd struck out before he could do anything serious. I hadn't. I'd actually kissed her, and won. If I hadn't gone along with it, she might not have locked herself in her room. I couldn't see Rogers kissing Mo, even though he was drunk. She was furious with me, and it was all my fault.

I was the winner, but at what cost?


	11. Chapter 10: Christmas Sucks

Chapter Ten: Christmas Sucks

Back at my apartment an hour or so later I was fumbling with the key. I dropped it several times, swearing profusely every time I picked it back up. The haze of drunkenness was still weighing heavy on my mind, having been kicked back in after leaving Stark Tower, numbing about everything that had previously concerned me. Like Mo, for instance.

_I screwed up. She probably hates me now. She'll never want to speak to me again. And who could blame her? I'm just a creepy old guy who's in love with a sixteen year old. _I sighed heavily as I finally got the door open. _I belong in a mental hospital._

I locked the door behind me and kicked off my shoes. I dropped my keys on the counter and rubbed my eyes with my fists. My head was throbbing painfully. I could hear my heart beating in my ears.

Downing a glass of water, I turned away and stumbled toward my bedroom, flicking the light switch when I reached it. Glancing quickly out of my window, I saw the faint glow of Christmas trees from the complex across the street. My apartment showed no sign of Christmas spirit whatsoever. I was impressed that Stark's place did.

My teeth ground together in anger. _Stark._ _Damn Stark and his stupid ideas, _I thought, aiming a kick at my bedframe. _Why the hell did I go along with what he said?_

_ Because you wanted a chance to kiss Mo, you idiot._ Sometimes I really hate that little voice in my head.

I sat heavily on my bed and fell back against the pillows, resting one arm behind my head. Without bothering to change my clothes or even turn off the light, I fell asleep in moments.

oOoOo

When I woke the next morning, it was early afternoon. Nothing too unusual there. I swung my legs off the bed and stood, stretching my arms over my head. My brain was still a little fuzzy, but nowhere near as bad as the night before.

I opened the blinds on my window and peered out at the city below me. Taxis were cruising right along in traffic; everyday people were weaving in and out between stopped cars. There was no sign of an alien attack, thank God. Just a typical New York day.

Crossing the room to my closet, I stripped out of yesterday's clothes and threw on jeans and a gray t-shirt. Nothing too special; I didn't plan on going anywhere that day. No, it was best to leave Mo to her own devices. Give her time to blow off some steam, like Banner said.

I went to the kitchen next, opening the fridge to find something to eat. There wasn't much to be found, so I grabbed an apple took a bite. My hand hovered over a can of beer, but I shot that idea down quickly. My headache was bad enough; I didn't need to refuel it. I opted for a glass of water instead.

_Wow, Clint, going healthy, are we?_ I thought drily as I made my way into the living room. _Now, just sit your ass on that couch and turn on the TV, and call it a day._

Well, that sounded like a good plan, until the only thing I could find to watch was a twenty-four hour _A Christmas Story_ marathon. Apparently, the TV people think everyone spends time with their families on Christmas, so there's no reason to play anything _good_.

"Oh, screw this," I muttered, jumping off the couch and tossing the remains of my apple into the garbage.

I jerked my shoes onto my feet and pulled my bow out from under the couch. Then I left my apartment and jogged toward the building's fire escape.

The wind whipped my shirt against my back as I climbed upward, onto the roof. Car horns were blaring; someone probably walking in front of a moving vehicle, stopping traffic as they did so. When I reached the roof, I lift myself over the edge and fell heavily onto the hot cement.

I sat down with my feet over the edge, gazing at the view around me. It was nice up there, with nobody talking to me or demanding my attention. The wind was rougher up here, without any sudden buildings to stop it. It filled my ears and drowned out all my thoughts. It was heaven.

I lazily docked an arrow in my bow and pulled the string back by my ear, looking around for danger. Pretending I saw something nearby, I leaned backward and rolled across the roof, coming up to land on one knee. I let the arrow drop to land at my feet, but gave a loud shout like I'd just dropped an enemy. Yes, this was how I spent my free time. Good thing I wasn't drunk enough to fall into the street below.

My earpiece beeped. Sighing, I pressed my finger to it. "What?" I snapped.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," Natasha said sarcastically. "What's got you in such a good mood today?"

I snorted. "Oh, you know. Last night."

"You're still thinking about that?"

I tapped the roof's ledge with my foot. "Yes. Why? Should I be over it by now?"

"It's your own fault for what you did. If Mo hates you, there's no one to blame but yourself."

I opened my mouth to say something back, but it was almost as if she knew what I was going to say. "And, no, you can't blame Stark. You didn't have to go along with what he suggested."

I was starting to regret telling Natasha what we'd done. But Mo would have probably told her anyway. It seemed like there were no secrets between them, at least that I could tell; girls were just funny like that.

"Have you talked to her yet today?" I finally asked, unsure of what else to say.

Natasha scoffed. "No, I haven't." She paused. "Look, Barton, if you really wanna know what she thinks about last night and whether she's still mad or not, you're just going to have to talk to her yourself."

"Thanks, mother," I mumbled, bending down to pick up my dropped arrow.

I could practically see the smug smile that Natasha was wearing on the other end. "Anytime. What are you doing?"

I peered over the edge of the building, squinting down at the people below. Everything looked okay. "Patrolling the city."

"So you're pretending to shoot arrows on your complex's roof?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

She laughed. "It's Christmas. Isn't there something you should be doing?"

I smirked and readjusted my quiver. "Like what?"

Natasha cleared her throat. "I don't know. Christmas things?"

I gripped my bow tighter in my hand and strode over to the ladder leading back to the fire escape. "I tried that. Didn't work out."

"Christmas movie marathon got you down, huh?"

I shook my head. She knew me too well. "Something along those lines."

"I see. Well, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and berate you about your little Mo situation. So, Merry Christmas, and if I know Mo at all, you better be prepared for some serious butt kissing if you want things back to normal."

And with that said, Natasha disconnected.

I sighed again and began my descent, keeping a careful grip on the ladder rungs while my mind drifted off. Some of my thoughts were about how much this Christmas really sucked, but the rest of it revolved around what Natasha said.

She had a point. I had to go talk to Mo and try to fix things. Or apologize, in the least. "Get things back to normal" was how Natasha had described it. That funny thing was that I didn't want things back to normal. I wanted Mo to see me the way I saw her, as unlikely as I was sure that would be. I wanted more than normal.

No sooner had my feet touched down in the fire escape then my earpiece was beeping again. Stark's slightly slurred voice filled my ears.

"Hi," he said.

I raised my eyebrows and slipped back into my apartment building. "'Hi?'" I shot back. "You aided in making Mo hate our guts, and all you can say is 'hi'?"

"I see you're attempting to not outwardly blame me for everything."

I opened my door and stepped back into my apartment. The glass of water I'd started drinking was exactly where I'd left it, so I took a tiny sip. "That is correct," I finally said, swallowing quickly. "It's not your fault."

Stark chuckled from the other end. "Did Natasha tell you to say that?"

I smiled a little. "Maybe."

"Of course it's my fault. I'm just cunning and manipulative. You shouldn't blame yourself for succumbing to my wishes."

I flopped onto the couch. "That's an interesting way to put it."

There was a long pause after that. I would have assumed Stark had hung up if I couldn't hear him breathing into the speaker. Another few minutes passed before Stark said, "I'm surprised you haven't asked about Mo yet."

"I've been trying to avoid it," I admitted. "I've caused enough damage already."

"If you feel that bad about it, why don't you just apologize? Thor's already done it."

I snorted. "Is this you suggesting something reasonable?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

I leaned back into the cushions and set my feet up on my coffee table, crossing my arms behind my head. "Okay, I'll bite. What did Thor say to her?"

Stark paused again. "Well, I don't actually know. He hasn't left yet."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How long has he been there?"

"Few hours."

I sat up, suddenly alarmed. "And where are they?"

"Mo's bedroom."

"Have you heard anything from either of them?"

"Nope."

I leapt to my feet, striding toward the door and throwing it open. "Stark! What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, slamming it behind me. "Did you not think to check on them? What if she killed him or something?"

"Barton, he's a god. I'm pretty sure a little mortal girl isn't strong enough to take him on." He laughed. "But I do like how Mo killing Thor is immediately what your mind jumped to. That's a completely different than what mine did."

My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. "You're sick, Stark."

"Yeah, I am."

I sighed yet again. "I'm on my way over. Don't do anything stupid before I can get there."

"Your wish is my command."


	12. Chapter 11: Forgiveness

***Hey guys! I'm back! I'm actually supposed to be babysitting right now, but I ignored the kid for a few hours in order to crank this chapter out for you. So, here it is! Hope you like it! And, if you've been reading this and have absolutely no idea what's going on, and you haven't read Animo, I suggest you do so now. Otherwise, the chapters to come will make so sense at all. Enjoy guys! Love you all :) ***

Chapter Eleven: Forgiveness

After ending my conversation with Stark, I walked a little faster to the stairs leading down to the ground floor. My heart was beating wildly in my chest at the thought of seeing Mo. A million scenarios were rushing through my mind, most of them involving Mo slapping me, kicking me, and/or pulling a gun out of some hidden spot and shooting me in the chest. Only one or two of them had her forgiving me. In just one she professed her undying love for me. As if.

I hailed a taxi as soon as I burst out of my building's door. The taxi would be the fastest way to get there, as I was too high strung to even consider running at that point.

I leapt out of the taxi before it'd even come to stop, throwing some bills behind me into his waiting hand. The gleaming glass doors of Stark Tower were just ahead of me. I was fortunate enough to not walk directly into them.

Barely even out of breath, I sprinted to the elevator doors, pressed the "up" button, and slipped inside. I ignored Jarvis's feeble attempts to engage me in conversation, and instead closed my eyes against my oncoming headache. When the elevator doors slid open again, I was thoroughly freaked out by the idea of seeing Mo.

I stepped into the living room, prepared to hear a battle cry or some crazy shit like that, but there was nothing but silence. I found Stark sitting at the bar, swirling around a glass of amber alcohol that didn't really look like it'd been touched. Well, maybe it had, but Stark didn't look that intoxicated. Not when you compared it to last night.

He turned his head when he heard me approach. "Took you a lot longer than I expected. Having second thoughts?"

I scowled at him and strode over to where he sat. "No. There was a lot of traffic, and I can't fly like you can." I looked toward Mo's closed bedroom door. "Are they still in there?"

"Yeah. Haven't heard a sound out of there in a while. We should probably go investigate," was his lazy reply. I looped my fingers around the collar of his shirt and pulled him off the barstool. "Hey, hey, hey! I'm coming, all right? And I know how to walk!" he protested.

I snorted as we neared the door. "Then why didn't you get off your ass sooner? Thor could be dead for all we know, and Mo could have jumped out the window with those new boots you gave her."

I paused with one hand over the doorknob and looked back at Stark. He shrugged. "If she killed him, it's probably locked."

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I lifted my leg and kicked the door in. It swung open much easier than I expected it to.

Thor stood just inside the door, looking up in surprise. Mo sat on her bed, her elbows resting on her knees. She sat up a little straighter when she saw us and narrowed her eyes. "It was unlocked, you dumb ass," she spit, tossing a hateful glare my way.

That's when I noticed the bump on her forehead that was starting to turn purple. I hurried forward and took her face in my hands, ignoring the feeling that stirred in my stomach when I remembered we were in that exact position the night before. "Mo, are you okay? What happened to her head?"

Her blue eyes rolled up to try and see the mark. At the same time, she shoved me away from her and crossed her arms across her chest, completely ignoring my question, and the fact that I was there altogether.

Stark decided to take it upon himself to speak up. "Thor, buddy, glad to see you're still alive." Mo glared at him. "What were the two of you doing?"

"I brought Mo with me to Asgard," Thor replied.

I almost had a heart attack when he said those words. The only thing that came to mind when Asgard was mentioned, besides Thor, was Loki. That crazy bastard deserved to be locked up for the rest of his immortal life. I wanted Mo nowhere near him. _Calm the hell down, Barton,_ I told myself. _She probably didn't even see him there._

Stark was staring at Mo's forehead. "So how _did_ you get that bump?" he asked.

"I walked into a door," Mo answered, running a few fingers over the spot. She cringed, and I felt sort of bad.

"Klutz," Stark snickered. I shot him a spiteful look.

My gaze returned to Mo. She was staring off into space, like she was thinking hard about something. Her eyes narrowed into a glare. "Are you okay?" I asked her again.

She let out a small sigh before she smiled. "I'm fine, Barton." Then she paused, a funny look coming over her face. "Wait, what are you doing here?"

I felt my cheeks heat up. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. Stark jumped to my rescue before I could blunder out anything stupid, although I certainly didn't need his help. "Do you want a drink, Thor?" he asked the blonde Asgardian.

"Your Midgardian beverages have no effect on me," Thor replied, giving Stark a wary glance. Who could blame the guy?

Stark shook his head and turned to the door, motioning to Thor. "You can have water, then, if that makes you feel better. Come on." He led the way out of the room, leaving me alone with Mo. He shot a secretive wink my way before closing the door just a little.

I glared after him for a little bit before I noticed Mo watching me. Clearing my throat, I nodded to the door. "That was weird," I said, trying to act normal. What on Earth was I supposed to say to her that wouldn't be horribly offensive?

Her eyebrows raised a little as she nodded. "Yeah, it was."

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. _It's now or never, Barton. Let's get a move on here, shall we?_ "Look, Mo," I started, but she was already speaking.

"Look, Barton – " she began, and then stopped. We'd spoken in unison. It would have been funny, if I was in a humorous mood.

I looked down to my feet with a small smile. "Sorry," I apologize. "Go ahead."

Mo looked like the last thing she wanted to do was go first, but regardless she asked, "What are you doing here?" again.

That wasn't what I was expecting her to say, but it was a legit question. Why should she foresee me coming over when the night before I'd crossed – no, _obliterated_ – the line and kissed her? I probably looked like a desperate, clingy teenage boy trying to see her the day after. Anxiously, I pulled at the hem of my shirt, thinking of what to say next. "I wanted to apologize for last night," I forced out, not wanting to look up and see her angry eyes.

I waited patiently for an answer, any answer, whether it be words of acceptance or a furious shout, but I was met with nothing but silence.

Instead of answering me, Mo grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pulled me toward her. Her arms snaked around my neck, and she laid her head on my shoulder. Instinctively, my hands settled on her waist, but just barely. I was ready to pull away the moment she realized she was making a mistake. Well, in any case, it was a nice hug. I rested my cheek on top of her head and listened to the sound of our hearts beating in unison.

"I forgive you," Mo mumbled into the side of my neck.

Well, that was all fine and dandy, but I knew that whatever it was that we were doing, this weird _hug_ thing, wouldn't last for much longer. Call me a pessimist, but I knew that the line I crossed was one that couldn't be jumped back over again too easily. So I whispered back a thank you and let the silence last as long as she'd allow it.

Just like I knew would happen, she jerked backward in my arms. She eased out of the embrace with a lot less urgency soon after, like she'd realized what she'd just done. I dropped my hands and tried not to smile too much. Despite the fact that we would probably never get back to the place we were before, the hug was still nice. And as long as she wasn't mad at me, I really didn't care about anything else.

"Merry Christmas, Barton," she said with a grin.

I smiled back, but in the dark recesses of my mind, I knew that everything that would happen going forward would be because of that invisible boundary that I broke, and I didn't want to see the consequences just yet. So I forced that smile to become stronger and answered her with, "Merry Christmas, Mo."

I went home right after that, ignoring Stark's knowing looks as I stepped into the elevator with Thor. We didn't talk much on the way down, and only exchanged good-byes when it came time to go our separate ways. I didn't know what he had going on with Mo, but as long as it was purely camaraderie, I didn't care to know.

Soon after was New Year's Eve. The whole Avengers team sat outside Stark Tower on the little runway/balcony thing and watched the ball drop from up in the sky. We all sat in awkward silence as it did so. Nobody wanted to kiss each other, as there were two women and five men, but Mo leaned over and kissed Banner on the cheek. His expression was funny, and it made the rest of us laugh. It didn't even make me that jealous.

On Valentine's Day, the whole team pitched in to buy Mo a rose from each of us. Stark called later in the day and said that she loved them. I went out and ate Italian food with Natasha that night. We shared a bottle of wine and talked about S.H.I.E.L.D. and the situation with the aliens. Mostly, though, we gossiped about the rest of the team, namely Stark. He was fun to talk about.

I didn't do much other than drink in my apartment on Saint Patrick's Day. There wasn't much to do on that holiday anyway, other than wear a little green (which I did, by the way) and pinch the poor suckers that don't. On April Fool's Day, I hid Rogers's shield from him. It was really just behind his couch, but he apparently wasn't smart enough to figure that out. I got quite the lecture after that, but I bought him lunch and all was forgiven. Until I dumped a few drops of hot sauce on his sandwich, that is.

Stark called to tell me that Mo locked herself in her room on Mother's Day and wouldn't come out. The same went for Father's Day. I was discouraged from going over there and making things worse, so I stayed home and looked through old family photos that I kept hidden in one of my dresser drawers. There wasn't much reason for me to celebrate the holiday, either. That was one thing the two of us had in common.

Now we were in July. Stark had set fireworks off on the top of Stark Tower on the Fourth of July, but that day had come and gone. I was sitting on the roof of my building again when my earpiece beeped. "Barton," Fury's voice boomed.

Well, that was unexpected. Not. "Can I help you?" I asked, flicking a pebble off the edge and into the street below.

"I don't appreciate your tone, agent. I need you to come in right away. It's urgent."

_Yeah, sure it is,_ I thought sarcastically. I stood up anyway and slung my bow and quiver back over my shoulder. I may as well humor the poor guy. He must be getting bored, not having heard anything about the aliens in the past months. God knew I was. "What's going on? Anything interesting?" I inquired, climbing down the ladder to the fire escape.

"Not in a good way, but yes. Hurry up, will you? We need a team launched as soon as possible. Rogers, Romanoff, Thor, and Banner are already here," Fury answered.

My eyebrows furrowed. "What about Stark and Mo?"

"Stark should be on his way soon. Mo isn't coming. This meeting isn't for her."

That struck me as a little odd. Why wouldn't she be included in whatever this was? She was a good fighter; she proved that on Thanksgiving when the aliens attacked. And she was smart, too. She knew how not to get killed. Even if she talked back to Fury, it was for good reason. The rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. probably wished they could be as assertive as her when it came to the director.

"Are you still there, Barton?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm still here. I'm on my way." I was walking out of my apartment building now, and holding out one hand to hail a taxi. "Why isn't Mo invited?"

Fury sighed on the other end. "I'll explain things when all of you are here."

"That's not going to make her very happy, you know," I pointed out, piling into the backseat of a yellow cab before it'd even stopped.

"I couldn't care less about her happiness right now."

_Damn, Fury,_ I thought, raising my eyebrows. "Wow."

His patience must have been wearing out, because he snapped back, "I'm doing this to _help her_, Barton, so I'd appreciate if you didn't shoot back some smart ass response to everything I say!"

I chuckled quietly. "Okay, Fury. I'm sorry." I glanced out the window. "I'm coming up toward one of the launch pads now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Fury muttered something indecipherable before hanging up.

The flight up to the helicarrier was short and sweet. I made idle chitchat with the pilot until the wheels touched down on the flight deck. Then I jumped out of the jet and jogged at a steady pace toward the conference room.

Rogers, Natasha, Banner, and Thor were already there, just as Fury said. Stark was nowhere to be seen. I walked forward and stood in between Banner and Natasha. "What did I miss?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Every face turned toward the door as Fury strode in. "Glad you could make it, Barton," he said lazily as he went to the front of the room. "Are we ready to begin?"

"But, sir," Natasha cut in. "Stark and Mo aren't here yet."

Fury closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath before repeated what he'd told me. "This doesn't concern Mo. The five of you can fill Stark in once he gets here."

"Why does this not concern Mo?" Thor asked. "She is a part of this team as well, is she not?"

I completely agreed with that statement, but for once, I felt that Fury had his reasons for keeping her away. The look on his face was enough to convince me; it was as if someone had died.

Fury rubbed at the beard on his chin. "We are assembled here today because of Mo. It has everything to do with her, but I don't want her to hear about any of this. Is that understood?" He was met with nods all around. "Good. Then I'll be blunt: the aliens have kidnapped her brother."

Natasha's hand flew to her mouth. The rest their faces, mine included, took on a grim expression. They'd taken Adam? No wonder Fury had wanted to keep Mo out of this. God only knew what she'd do.

"We _are_ going to save him, aren't we?" Natasha asked, dropping her hand back to her side.

Fury rolled his eyes. "Of course we are. The death of her brother on our watch would be hazardous to her mentality. She isn't the kind of person to take loss well. I mean, she jumped out of the helicarrier to save Barton, for God's sake."

I felt myself blush, but nobody acknowledged it. "What do they want him for?" Rogers asked, fixing a calculating gaze on Fury's face. "You said they only wanted her."

"We can only assume it's bait to lead Mo to them. Which is exactly why she isn't here, because going after them is exactly what she'd do. So the Avengers are going to swoop in and rescue him before she knows any different. I want this to be a quick trip with no casualties on either side. We don't want to be seen." He turned his eyes to Rogers. "It's your call how you do things, but this mission _must_ meet he above criteria. We can't afford to lose anyone now. Am I being clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Rogers replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

Fury nodded and walked to the door. "Good. Fill Stark in once he gets here, and see if he can pinpoint their exact location. We have an estimate, but it's not enough to go by. I'll be back in a little while to check on your progress." He turned back halfway to the door. "I suggest you not let Stark go. This is a stealth mission, not a full-on battle." Then he was gone, striding off down the hallway.

I ran a hand through my hair as I watched him go. This entire situation sucked. I could see why he was keeping Mo in the dark, but that didn't mean I was happy about it. We'd definitely get an earful if she ever found out about it. I wasn't particularly looking forward to that, nor was I looking forward to Rogers telling Stark not to go.

"Poor Mo," Natasha murmured quietly, her eyes slightly out of focus.

The door swung open shortly after, and in walked Stark. And, just behind him, to everyone's surprise, trailed Mo. She was looking a little off; her eyes were looking, but they weren't seeing. When she looked up to find us all watching her, however, they came back into focus, and looked slightly surprised.

Seeing her standing there, I felt sadder than I'd been when Fury told us the news. She had no idea what had happened, and, if everything went according to plan, she never would.

Rogers took it upon himself to be bearer of bad news. Although, it was probably just going to be telling Mo she had to leave. "Nice of you to join us," he said to Stark in a monotonous voice. He appeared to be just as shaken by the recent kidnapping as the rest of us were. He nodded toward Mo and continued. "Why did you bring her?"

"She insisted on coming with me," Stark replied solemnly. It was like he'd sucked up the depressing atmosphere we'd created as soon as he entered the room. He seemed to know something bad had happened.

Rogers placed a gentle hand on Mo's shoulder. "You need to leave."

Mo swallowed once and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Why? Why can't I know what's happening?"

"Not now, Mo. At least go wait in the hallway. Please," Rogers begged with a sigh and a slight shake of his head.

Mo's eyes took on a pleading look as she glanced at the rest of us, asking for clearance to stay. Thor, whom I hadn't taken much notice of before, was clenching and unclenching his fists and locking his jaw. As soon as he noticed Mo watching, though, his face softened. Banner just shook his head at her, discouraging her from staying. Natasha wouldn't even look at her, she was that upset.

When Mo finally turned her blue eyes to me, I didn't know what to do. Well, I did, but I didn't want to, even though I knew it was for the best. I pressed my lips into a hard line as she glanced back at the door and then back to me. I nodded to her, telling her to go and wait outside. Her eyes flashed with hurt, but she turned away anyway.

She shot Rogers a last pleading look, but he just calmly ushered her outside. The door closed behind her with a resolute _click_, and then there was absolute silence.

Stark turned calm eyes to the rest of us. "Something happened to her family, didn't it?"

Rogers nodded. "Yes. The aliens kidnapped her brother."

Stark nodded, and then he and Rogers joined our little group as we gathered around two of the computer monitors. Banner automatically took his place at Stark's side. The two them simultaneously began to tap different keys, their eyes narrowed as they scrutinized the different information.

Stark glanced up. "Do we know how long ago he was taken?"

"Three days." Fury came waltzing back in, looking thoroughly pissed off. He must have seen Mo outside. "I told her she couldn't come!" he shouted, throwing a hateful look at the billionaire.

With an unfazed smile, Stark tilted his head. "You mean you didn't want her to come and find out that her only brother has been kidnapped?" He smiled sarcastically. "My bad. I should have been firmer with her and told her to stay home." I smiled a little at his words. At least Stark wasn't afraid to speak his mind.

Banner was still typing away at the keys. "Three days, you said?" he asked, not even bothering to look up.

"I did," Fury answered, taking a few deep breaths. "Did you tell her what's happened?" he asked Rogers.

Rogers shook his head. "No, sir. She has no idea. Although she isn't happy about being stuck in the hall."

"That's the best place for her now. What have you got?" Fury came around behind the two geniuses and glanced over their shoulders.

Stark pressed a few more keys then, with a look of satisfaction, he sat back. With one finger, he pointed toward the screen. I peered around Thor's massive biceps to see what he was indicating. A red dot pulsated in the center of what looked like the state of Illinois. "They're holding him above Chicago in some form of aircraft," Stark stated a little smugly.

"Excellent." Fury was nodding, all previous grievances with Stark forgotten.

Natasha held up a hand. "Hold on. How did you even learn about this?" She was addressing Fury.

Fury cleared his throat. "We were contacted three days ago by one of the aliens. They claimed they were holding Adam Monet as ransom, in exchange for Mo."

"So they know that she's Animo," I murmured. That couldn't be good.

Fury nodded. "It would appear so, yes." He paused before continuing with his previous story. "It took us until today to get their general location. That is why you were brought here today, to pinpoint their exact placement and then rescue Adam from there." He turned to leave next. "If that's it, then, I suggest you set off immediately. Rogers, get an attack plan going, and then take one of the smaller jets. They're more inconspicuous."

I watched Fury leave before turning back to the group. "So, Rogers, what's the plan?"

Rogers looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, Fury said earlier that he wants us to just get in and get out. That means no fighting. Causalities on either side are prohibited. We need to be stealthy, and we can't be reckless or impulsive. Which means that Mo can't come along, and – "

"You're going to refuse Mo the opportunity to save her brother from the aliens?" Stark cut in. "What kind of a man are you?"

I could see where he was coming from, but I could also see Rogers's side. Mo was being targeted for unknown reasons; we couldn't just risk her life like it was nothing.

Rogers's eyes hardened. "And neither can you, Stark," he said, finishing his last sentence.

Stark's brown eyes widened, and we all automatically took a few steps back, leaving Stark and Rogers to face off in the middle. "What do you mean, I can't go?" His voice dripped with venom. "Why can't I?"

"Because you're – "

"Because I'm what?" Stark snapped. "Reckless? Impulsive? _What_ Rogers?"

Rogers clenched his fists and took a step forward. "Maybe if you'd let me finish a sentence for once, you'd know!" he snarled. "The truth is, Stark, you and Mo are too unstable to go on this mission. We're looking to save someone's life, not get everyone killed!"

Natasha came to stand by me. She leaned in to whisper, "Mom and Dad are fighting again." I smirked at her.

"Unstable? _Unstable?_ You think we're unstable?" Stark bellowed. "I'll show you unstable, you spandex-wearing ballerina!"

He'd no sooner said those words than he'd launched a kick at the nearest chair. It was metal, and clattered to the floor with an awful clanging sound. He swung his fist at the nearest computer screen. It shattered, but his hand looked relatively unscathed. Then he stormed toward the door, wrenching it open so hard that it smacked the wall.

I heard Mo exclaim as he stalked into the hallway. All at the same time, the five of us ran to see what he was doing now. I skidded to a stop in the hall, watching Stark drag Mo by the wrist toward the flight deck. She glanced over her shoulder at us, her blue eyes wide with confusion. Nobody moved to help her. Not even me. It was best to let Stark vent his rage on his own. Mo was smart enough to be able to handle him on her own.

Once they were out of sight, Rogers ushered us back into the room. We sat in stunned silence for a little while. Rogers looked like he was trying to figure some things out. "Do you think they heard that all over the helicarrier?" he finally asked, glancing at each of us.

Banner snorted. "Yeah, probably. It'd have been hard not to."

"Good." Rogers glanced at his watch. "They should be at Stark Tower by now, yes?"

My eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, probably. Why?"

Rogers ignored me and pressed a finger to his ear, switching on his earpiece. He cleared his throat once before saying, "Stark?"

He visibly recoiled from whatever the billionaire said on his end. "Yes, yes, I understand you're angry with me, but hear me out. The jet we're taking will be waiting above Stark Tower in twenty minutes. You and Mo need to meet us there. We're going to go rescue her brother. No, Stark, I'm not joking, I promise. Yes, you should probably tell her what's going on. Okay? All right. See you in twenty minutes." Rogers returned his hand to his side and looked at all of us.

"You were just joking?" Natasha asked skeptically, raising one eyebrow.

Rogers nodded. "Fury needed to think we weren't taking Mo or Stark, and Stark exploding was the way to ensure that."

We all nodded in understanding. As happy as I was to have Mo coming along, I didn't really want her to go. There would be more danger in that aircraft than she'd ever faced before.

"So what's the plan?" I asked again, coming back out of my thoughts.

"We're not supposed to fight, so we're not taking anything with us other than a gun or two each, just in case. So, let's go get those now, and then we can go pick up Stark and Mo." Rogers turned away and led us out of the conference room.

Nobody said much on the way to the training room where all of the weapons were stocked. My mind kept going over thoughts of Mo being taken captive and tortured, or worse, killed. We promised that we'd keep her and her family safe. We failed at the second part already. Who's to say we wouldn't lose her on this mission? It was a possibility I didn't even want to consider.

_I'll keep her safe,_ I swore to myself. _Whatever it takes._


End file.
